


Changing Fortunes

by 1000lux



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Chris arrives in chapter 4, Drug Addiction, M/M, Mental Instability, Revenge, What if?, at least up to the middle of season 4, backstory Cyril, backstory Peter, badass!toby, building a rep, but the structure basically remains the same, cyril hasn't got brain damage, only with toby being different, oriented along canon, ryan and toby work together, semi-canon, some later, some stuff happens earlier, still fighting Schillinger, still having nightmares, timelines are arranged to my every whim and liking, toby is still a nice guy inside, toby rises to the once running Oz, you'll see in the next chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 91,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000lux/pseuds/1000lux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We start in season 1. Everything the same so far. Only this time Toby stands up a little earlier.</p><p>What if Toby doesn't go back to being nobody after that?<br/>What if just not being victimized any longer isn't enough?</p><p>Toby and Ryan become not only friends but partners in the tits trade. Toby moves up to becoming one of the selected few who run shit inside Oz.</p><p>How would things change with that shift in power?<br/>What kind of man will Chris find when he comes to Oz with the task of making Toby fall in love<br/>with him so Schillinger can crush him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sink or Swim

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither series nor characters!!!
> 
> Inspired by the fanfiction "Shifting Alliances" by sistersleep (http://www.czeri.slashcity.org/bleedingshamrock/shifting.htm) where Ryan mentions that I once thought, that maybe Toby could become his partner in crime.

They would always say I'd never be shit  
They would always say I'd never be shit  
Well, look at me now  
Look at me now

(Adema - The way you like it)

******************************

You do what you need to, to survive. That's what he told himself since the day he'd heard those  
seven words.

"Your ass belongs to me now prag."

Whatever Schillinger asked, he did it. Better not think about it, just go through with it, sooner  
or later it was over and he could fall back into the sweet indifference of sleep.  
If he slept at all. Denial didn't work as good as it did when you had downed five vodka-maritinis.

*************************

It felt like a nightmare, only Toby could have never dreamed up such things. Sure, you heard  
that such things were said to be happening in jail, but no one expected to get into this kind of  
situation.  
And here he was. Trapped in a vicious circle of pain, self-pity, remorse and self-hate. Maybe he  
deserved exactly what was happening to him here. He had killed a little girl. Accidentally, sure.  
But that didn't make her any less dead than she would have been otherwise.  
He was glad Gene had filed for divorce. He couldn't look at her anymore than he could look at  
himself in the mirror, without the need to throw up.  
He was worthless. Maybe deep-down he'd always known it, maybe because of that he'd started  
drinking. He was just a pathetic waste of space. Expendable. His wife would find a new husband,  
who would look so much better after their children. Angus would inherit the law firm. Toby  
would just become a failure of the past. There was no going back to his old life after this. His  
life was over. Maybe it had been over since the moment he'd hit Kathy Rockwell.  
God, he was so pathetic. Lamenting, whining, wallowing in self-pity. Kathy Rockwell's parents had  
lost their child because he had been DUI and he thought he had a hard time, because he was  
raped every night?  
And worst of all now he'd moved from booze to drugs. Getting high with O'Reily was the only  
thing he was looking forward to these days.

*************************

"I know you killed those two in self-defense. We can appeal your case! Let me help you.", Toby  
urged.  
"Just let me die, Beecher. Please", Jefferson Keane answered.

**************************

"Eat the page."  
"No."  
"Do not fuck with me, prag. Eat it!"

Toby was still sitting in the library, long after Schillinger had left. Trying to hold back tears of  
humiliation. How could he have thought he could actually move something, do something?

"It's just wrong, Ryan.", he slurred, while getting high with him, "That's not justice."  
"Fuck justice, Beecher.", Ryan giggled, "We're in OZ, there is no justice. There's just eat or be  
eaten."  
"There should be...", Toby mumbled, drowsily, before the heroin muddled every clear thought  
in his head.

***************************

Toby looked at the huge heavily painted eyes, staring at him in disbelief, out of the mirror.  
That wasn't him. That just wasn't him.

Toby wiped his mouth. On his hand was mixture of lipstick and cum.

He felt the weight of Schillinger's body pressing down on him and he tried to blend out the  
sickness, that was starting to built up in his stomach. It would be over soon. He would survive.  
That was all that counted.

Toby was lying in his bunk, his face streaked with tears and runny make-up. He would be quite  
a sight in the morning. He could still feel Schillinger's hands on his body and what else he didn't  
even want to think about.  
His hand that had just wiped away his tears, brushed over the fishnet shirt, he was still wearing.  
That couldn't be all there was to him.

***************************

"Jefferson Keane was set up."  
"Do you have any proof of that?", McManus asked.  
"The CO's have it videotaped."  
"Do you have any proof of *that*?", McManus asked, still unbelieving.  
"No, I don't", Toby said frustrated, "But you have to find it. You know he changed. You know there  
was something fishy about the whole thing! You have to find it!"  
"I'll ask around. But I don't think there's a big chance of me finding anything, Beecher. Why's  
this so important to you?"  
"I became a lawyer because I believed in justice. I still do."

***************************

This was insane. He had no reason to do this for Keane. He was getting himself in even deeper  
shit than before. Schillinger would find out about this. What was he trying to proof by this?!  
That he wasn't completely Schillinger's plaything? That he still could make decisions on his  
own? Schillinger would kill him...He needed to go into protective custody after this.  
Fuck, he mustn't look this nervous, or they would never believe him. He wiped his sweaty palms  
on his trousers. A little nervous was okay. He was a prag, he always looked a little nervous.  
He swallowed hard and then stopped in front of the hack.  
"What do you want?", he asked with a mixture of boredom and annoyance.  
"Mr. Schillinger would like to see the tape you got of Keane in the gym. He'd pay good."  
The hack looked at him suspiciously.  
"It would be worth some dough to him, to watch a nigger kill some spics, sealing his own death warrant."  
Toby tried to sound casual and even a little amused.  
"How does 1000$ sound?"  
And suddenly the hack looked a lot more eager.  
"Come to talk to me, when you know the when and where. Don't approach Mr. Schillinger  
personally. He doesn't want to raise suspicions."  
"Deal."

Toby was breathing hard when he made his way to Ryan's pod. He didn't know how he'd  
manage to lie like this. Okay, he was a lawyer, but this...  
The overwhelming panic slowly mixed with a sense of accomplishment. If this was going to work  
out...

**********************

"You have to pretend that you were making investigations of your own. And I need to go into  
protective custody immediately afterwards."  
"You know I can't keep you in protective custody forever."  
"I'll figure something out." Well, at least he hoped he would eventually figure something out.

**********************

It had been two weeks since the tape had been found. The responsible COs had been officially  
charged and Jefferson Keane had returned from deathrow.  
Toby was still in protective custody, but Ryan had taken the route delivering food there. So he was  
being updated regularly concerning what went on in Em City.  
"I can't believe you really did this", Ryan shook his head laughing, "When did you grow balls? I  
never noticed."  
"I didn't either.", Toby laughed mirthlessly, "Is Schillinger still mad?"  
"You bet. He had to take the whole thing on himself, because he doesn't want to admit, that his  
prag played him like this. But don't worry he won't have you poisoned or something while you're  
here. He wants to get his own hands on you."  
"That's reassuring to know.", Toby said acerbically.

***************************

He didn't want to hate himself any longer. He just didn't. He wanted to like himself again. Or  
maybe for the first time in his life. Yes, he had killed Kathy Rockwell and he could never make  
it up to her parents. But he was serving a sentence for it, whether there was a certain amount  
of time that made up for taking a life left aside, this was his life and he had to live it. And he  
wouldn't give up that easy. He didn't want to be weak anymore. He didn't want to be a victim.  
From now on he would change. He would try to love himself unconditionally. He had brought it  
on to himself. But if he continued like this he might just as well kill himself. If he was going to  
live he was trying to live happy. As much as that was possible. Whether Kathy's parents would  
ever be able to forgive him or not. Today he would forgive himself and from that moment on,  
he would treat himself like someone who deserved happiness.  
He would do whatever he needed to do to survive in here, but not like he'd done it up till now.  
No one could save him but he himself. He would fight for himself. He was no big tough-guy, but  
he had a very well functioning brain. He wouldn't fight to get killed. He would fight to live.  
From today on he would look in the mirror every morning and he would like whatever he saw  
there. He would give the words, Sister Pete had made him repeat over and over during sessions,  
meaning.  
"I deserve to be loved. I don't deserve what Schillinger does to me."

*************************

Kathy Rockwell came to him during his withdrawal induced hallucinations. Together with  
Schillinger. Mocking him. Telling him that there was no use in fighting. That he was born to  
be a victim. A pansy. Weak. Pathetic. L-O-S-E-R.  
Kathy just ingnored them both, seemingly in her own world. Humming. Dancing. Inside that  
fucking cell. In a white summer dress.  
Schillinger was there pressing his head down when he hang over the toilet throwing up his guts.  
Drugs won't save you. McManus won't save you.  
All he wanted was just one more snort. But if he was too weak even to battle this addiction...  
He seemed to consist of nothing more than bile, pain and the smell of sickness. His fingers  
brushing over the cemented floor while he lay there resting his head against the metal of the  
toilet seat.  
He could feel the heel of Schillinger's boot in his neck. The pressure was too much. Why couldn't  
he just sink to the floor?  
Kathy broke her song, turning around to them as if she'd only just now registered there presence.  
Are you going to destroy another life? She asked him.  
Was he..?  
No.  
No!  
Schillinger grudgingly moved to the other side of the room.  
Okay, Kathy...  
Okay.

*************************

After four weeks of protective custody, he was finally returning to Em City. The only thing  
McManus had been able to do for him, was having him share a pod with Ryan now, who was  
already there to pick him up, when he arrived at the gates of Em City, escorting him to their  
shared pod. The Aryans stayed away. They would wait until McManus would stop watching them  
constantly. Right now they were only shooting him gloating glances, giving off remarks about  
his close and painful demise. He ignored them for now, the strong urge for some heroin taking  
hold of his body. But he'd given up his habit, during those four weeks. And it had been far too bad  
to go through that again. And for what was coming now he needed a clear mind, because his mind  
was the only advantage he had over them.  
"Christ, Beecher. Stop hyperventilating. They're not going to drag you out of our pod, kicking  
and screaming, to roast you in broad daylight in front of all the hacks."  
Toby had had his eyes squeezed shut since they'd entered the pod, trying to calm himself. Now  
he was looking down on his hands that were still shaking. He let out a long, labored breath.  
"Fuuuck. What am I going to do now?"  
"You could ask the Muslims to protect you. They are pretty grateful for you saving Jefferson  
Keane."  
Toby nodded weakly. It would be the sensible thing to do. But did he really want that. Protection  
through others went only so far. The only person he could really rely on was himself. Maybe  
it was time to stand up for himself...maybe...But once he stood up, what else was he going to do?

*************************

There was a shake down again, just after Ryan had gotten a new delivery. Toby was  
sitting near the TV, reading.  
Ryan was pretty flabbergasted when they didn't find anything in their pod. Later Toby came  
back, handing his book to Ryan.  
"What?"  
"Open it."  
Inside the envelope Toby had hidden Ryan's stash.  
"I had a feeling they were coming today."  
"You sure have some hidden talents.", Ryan laughed appreciative.  
"If you ever need some help.", Toby shrugged.  
Ryan eyed him for a moment, contemplatively.  
"You know I sure could. There's going to be a riot soon. We all know it. I could use someone to  
have my back.", Ryan smiled mischievously, "And we need to do something about your Schillinger  
problem."

**************************

It was the first time he saw Schillinger again. He was looking at him with a sneer, ordering him  
to come over. Toby was alone there. Ryan was still busy, handing out food.  
"Get your ass over here, prag!"  
Toby felt himself hunching instinctively, looking at the floor. All the other inmates watched, waiting  
for the show, hooting and shouting obscenities.  
It took all his self-control to square his shoulders and look up again.  
"I'm not your prag any longer.", he said loud enough for everyone to hear. His fingernails were  
digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. At least his voice gave him the benefit not to  
waver. He caught an appreciative nod from Ryan.  
"You're my prag until I decide to kill you!"  
Toby just kept walking, expecting himself to stumble any second. Anticipating one of the Aryans  
to grab him. He sat down with Rebadow and Busmalis.  
"Prag! Get over here now!"  
"Shut the fuck up, Schillinger, or you're going straight to the hole.", Whittlesey diffused the  
situation.  
Though Toby knew the confrontation had only been postponed, he felt ready to cry from  
relief.

*************************

He'd become Ryan's shadow, following him wherever he went. Though, he thought of himself  
more as a charity case.  
He went to the gym regularly. Despite the cat calls and the mocking. Not without some of the  
Irish or hacks that were friends with Ryan looking after him.  
Ryan and he got along well enough. Though Toby wondered when Ryan would become tired of  
looking after him. When he'd be on his own. He needed to be ready. But he was far from ready.  
Making a plan wasn't that easy. He was a unstable mix constant fear and steadily growing  
anger.  
"Relax, Beecher.", he seemed to hear that sentence a hundred times a day from Ryan.  
But how do you relax with a friend you're pretty sure will dump your ass the second it benefits  
him more, an enemy who's counting on it and so-called guards, who might very soon be guarding  
your corpse, for all they care.  
He shouldn't be ungrateful, afterall, Ryan was the sole reason he was still alive so far. But when  
fear is what you wake up with and with what you go to bed at night, you don't have the energy  
to work up gratitude.  
Bitter. That's probably the word. There's a lot of bitterness beneath all that fear. Bitterness for  
the life he fucked up. Bitterness for the system that doesn't protect him. Bitterness for his utter  
lack self-defense ability. Bitterness for the man that ran him into the ground.  
And steadily that bitterness is eating away on the fear. Something inside him is tired of holding  
his breath. Something he can't fanthom. Something he didn't know was there.  
And once the bitterness has eaten away all the fear, he doesn't know what awaits him at the  
core of it.

*************************

"You're going to die, sweet pea."  
"Not today."  
Schillinger didn't see the weight coming, that hit him in the head only moments later. Toby kicked  
him in the crotch, before he tied his hands and put a piece of cloth in his mouth. Then he  
slapped Schillinger a few times to wake him up.  
"Hey, Vern baby. After you've done so much for me, in our time together. I thought the least  
I could do for you, would be to return the favor, so you'd always have something to remind you  
of the warm and cozy times we spent together."  
When Toby took out the lighter, the cheering from the inmates who were gathering around the gym  
grew louder.

The cheering was the only thing Toby really remembered about it afterwards. Probably the shock.  
He still heard it when he was summoned to McManus' office.  
McManus looked at him hard, pacing up and down the room.  
"Beecher, can you explain to me how Schillinger ended up in the infirmary, with a swastika  
branded into his cheek?!"  
"I don't know. Dressing up for this year's anniversary of Hitler's birthday? Why don't you ask him?"  
"He refuses to say who it was! Where were you at the time?"  
"With Ryan O'Reily."  
"Oh yeah? Is he willing to testify that?"  
"Sure."  
Ryan was brought immediately by one of the CO's.  
"Beecher claims he's been with you at the time of the assault on Schillinger."  
"That's right."  
"I haven't seen either of you in Em City at the time."  
"We were in the supply-room."  
"Doing what?"  
"I was giving him a blow-job.", Toby stated matter-of-factly.  
"That's right.", Ryan agreed nonchalantly, "He was giving me a blow-job."  
"You can both go.", McManus groaned.

When Schillinger returned from the infirmary, Ryan and Toby were standing upstairs, leaning  
against the railing. Toby gleefully shouted down to him, for everyone to hear.  
"Actually I wanted to brand you on the ass not on the face, but I couldn't tell which was which."

*************************

"Everyone says you're crazy.", Ryan told him with a wry grin.  
"Couldn't wish for a better rep.", Toby smiled.  
"Now all we gotta do is, use it to our advantage."

 


	2. Riot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The riot breaks out. Everybody's been expecting it. Toby is right in the midst of it.
> 
> "I am willing to share the power. That is why I asked you here. You see, we can become a kind  
> of council. We will, together, make all the decisions. How about we divide up the responsibilities?  
> Look, O'Reily, Ross, Adebisi, you already have control of the front entrance. I propose O'Reily  
> be our spokesman when dealing with Glynn. Ross, you be in control of the distribution of food.  
> Adebisi, all of the comings and goings. Beecher, you're in charge of the hostages."

***************************

Toby looked into the mirror. And he didn't know who the man, he saw there, was. He saw the  
awkward lawyer with the glasses, fidgeting around trying to fit in. He saw the prag, without any  
dignity left, all dressed up with make-up on his face.  
He didn't know who he was now. But he knew one thing.  
He had survived. He had survived and that was all that counted.

*************************

It had been fast. Though, they'd all expected it for days, it hit Toby unprepared. So now here  
he was, looking all confident and in control, looking down on the mayhem they'd created. But  
no time for musing. Now it was time to put up an act again. The new and improved Tobias  
Beecher.  
Somehow he'd ended up among the leaders of the riot. And all he could think was that this wouldn't  
look good on his parole hearing.

Said was approaching them after his conversation with Glynn.  
"Glynn has given us time to come up with a list of demands. But I think the most important  
element is that we remain united."  
"I don't have a problem with that.", Alvarez stated.  
"Me neither. As long as we get a few ground rules laid down.", Ryan declared.  
"Such as?", Said asked with a frown.  
"Well, you're not the boss.", Adebisi answered annoyed.  
"I am willing to share the power. That is why I asked you here. You see, we can become a kind  
of council. We will, together, make all the decisions. How about we divide up the responsibilities?  
Look, O'Reily, Ross, Adebisi, you already have control of the front entrance. I propose O'Reily  
be our spokesman when dealing with Glynn. Ross, you be in control of the distribution of food.  
Adebisi, all of the comings and goings. Beecher, you're in charge of the hostages."  
"My men should have the hostages.", Alvarez countered.  
"Alright, so you take care of them together."  
Alvarez nodded in agreement. Toby didn't really care either way. It still felt sureal that he should  
be included in their decision making at all.  
"All right. So all that remains is our list of demands. Who wants to start?"  
"I want some more girls.", Ross demanded.  
"This ban on smoking is bullshit."  
Toby hadn't even thought about what his demands might be. Until recently, he hadn't had the  
chance for demands of any kind for a long time. But times had changed. He had pulled himself  
out of the shit. He wasn't a victim any longer. He was a leader. Time that he started to think  
like one.

*************************

"Hey, Beecher, let's have some fun.", some Aryans approached him, "Give us a treat."  
Toby assessed the territory. He was alone with them. Ryan was nowhere to be seen and no  
one else would bother. He wouldn't be able to take those two by the means of physical strength  
and his newfound reputation was still build on shaky ground. Dealing with those two would be  
a crucial make-or-break moment, which could end with everything going back to the way it'd  
been. He leaned back against the wall with a deliberately casual move.  
"Yeah, sure. You want my dick up your ass, why don't you get a little closer?"  
"He's got a mouth on him. Why don't you use it to suck my dick?!"  
"I hadn't realised so far you had one."  
He gave the two a disparaging look and just started walking towards them. Either his bluff would  
work or he would be back to sucking dick. He was so close now, that he was short of bumping  
shoulders with them. Finally they moved out of his way and let him through.  
Toby used the privacy of the supply room to wait until his hands stopped shaking.

*************************

"Yo, let him out, man!"  
"Dobbins is dying, man.", Hill and Vayhue approached them. Vayhue was carrying a bleeding  
Dobbins.  
"Shit, he needs a doctor immediately.", Toby exclaimed.  
"Yeah, let's dump him before he starts getting moldy.", Ryan agreed with him.  
"OK.", Adebisi shrugged.  
"What about Said and Alvarez?", Ross asked.  
"We don't have the time to check in with the two of them!", Toby retorted impatiently.  
"If you vote yes, that's a majority. We don't need them at all. This is what I'm saying. If the  
four of us hang together, Said's our bitch."

*************************

"Hey, Vern baby.", Toby entered Schillinger's pod, "You've been awfully quiet those past days.  
Where've you been? After all the changes I've made recently, I would have expected a good  
old chum like you to at least congratulate me. But no card, no flowers, that's just rude."  
"Get the hell out, Beecher."  
"Oh, right. You're trying to get paroled. »Trying« being the operative word. You don't really think  
I can let you go like this?"  
"I'm staying out of yours and O'Reily's business so leave me the fuck alone!"  
"What would it be worth to you, to get out of here? To return to your sons. How about I fuck  
you, Vern? I bet you've been secretly fantazising about it all along."  
"Go to hell, Beecher."  
"Been there, done that. Now it's time for you to get a little taste of dirt.", with that Toby turned  
around, and walked out of the pod, laughing.

He was still laughing, when he returned to Alvarez, who had stayed with the hostages.  
"Shit, of course I get stuck with the crazy.", Alvarez murmured.

*************************

"Get the fuck of her you fucking cocksucker!", McManus yelled.  
When Toby walked into the room he saw Ross trying to rip open Whittlesey's clothes. He walked  
over to him and yanked him off her. Punching him in the face and kicking him in the crotch, his  
face set in a mask of disgust.  
"Get the fuck out of here.", he said with a low and eerie voice.  
Ross had gotten up halfway and tried to answer something, when Toby's foot hit him in the mouth  
and had him spitting blood.  
"Don't talk, just walk."  
He gaze wandered over the blood on the floor. At least his hours at the gym had seemed to pay off.  
Miguel came walking back in, a sandwich in his hand.  
"Where the fuck have you been?!", Toby hissed.  
"I grabbed some food. You had pissed off, I was hungry, Ross said he would keep watch.", Miguel shrugged,  
"What are you all flustered about?"  
"Don't ever", he stabbed Miguel's chest with his finger, "leave him alone here again!"  
He went out of the room, his anger leaving. In front of his eyes, he again saw the looks on McManus' and Ross'  
faces, the way Miguel had backed off. Oh man. He shook is head, laughing in disbelief.

*************************

"I think those two might need a doctor.", Miguel said to Toby, looking at the two unconscious  
hacks on the floor. Toby nodded in agreement.  
"I'll see what I can do."

Toby approached the Muslims who were sitting at the main station overseeing Em City.  
"I need to talk to Said.", he said impatiently. As if there was another reason he'd be coming to  
them.  
"Let him through."  
"There are two CO's who definitely need medical treatment or we'll have two corpses in here."  
Said seemed like the most sensible among the riot leaders, except maybe Ryan. They'd gotten  
to know each other a little during the whole Jefferson Keane issue, back then when he'd still  
been a little pansy. Said had never treated him condescendingly and had voiced his thanks  
for him saving Keane from deathrow. He seemed to be maybe the only one in here, except Toby  
who had still preserved a sense of right and wrong, to some degree.  
"I see", Said answered not once doubting Toby's assessment of the situation, "I agree, but we need  
to make the decision together with the others."

"I say let the cocksuckers die.", Adebisi sneered.  
"Hell yes.", Ross agreed, shooting Toby a dirty look.  
"That's three to two.", Toby said, looking at Ryan demandingly.  
"Whatever, let them out.", Ryan gave his consent.

"Thank you.", McManus said to Toby, when the injured where transported out.  
"I didn't do it for you."  
"Why did you do it?"  
"The same reason you went in here. Because I still believe in something.", Toby put a  
finger over his mouth, "But shhh, don't tell anyone.", he added with a sneer.

*************************

"Before all this blows up into all of our faces, I want another chance!", McManus yelled at Said.  
"It's too late for that.", Said answered and left the room. McManus frantically turned towards Toby,  
who was about to leave too.  
"You can still give up and we'll all leave this alive.", he tried again, "Beecher, come on you  
can't want this!"  
"We sent the badly injured out. There's nothing more I can do for you. Or want to."  
"You're not a criminal like those people. You can talk to them, persuade them to end this. You helped  
before, you can help now."  
"You're asking for my help?"  
"Yes, Beecher. I'm asking for your help."  
"Where were you and your fine hacks, who are supposed to be monitoring everything that goes  
on here, when Schillinger branded me, when he fucked me up the ass every night, when he  
made me wear drag in front of everyone? Don't tell me you didn't know, that's bullshit.  
Everybody knew. I feel as compelled to help you now, as you felt back then.", Toby said with a friendly  
smile, before he left the room, leaving McManus and the other hacks behind.

*************************

"Don't do this, Ross. The SORT-team will be in here shortly. You won't get away with this."  
"Wouldn't be so sure about it, McManus."  
"Put the fucking gun down!", Whittlesey yelled, panicked.  
"Shut the fuck up, Diane. He's your boyfriend now or what?!"  
Suddenly Ross' arm was grabbed and twisted behind his back.  
"Aah, what the fuck?!"  
"No one get's shot! What's so difficult to understand about that?!", Toby hissed.  
"Let go of my arm, prag!", Ross sneered. There was a crack and the gun dropped to the floor.  
"Aaah! You broke my fucking arm!"  
"You don't say.", Toby let go of the screaming Ross and picked the gun off the floor, giving a  
nod to McManus, before leaving the room.

*************************

"They'll be here any second. Get the fuck down, O'Reily!", Toby tackled Ryan, pushing him to the  
ground the second the first shots ripped through the room. And soon they couldn't see anything  
and barely breath. The smoke-bombs making it unable to tell friend from enemy.  
Toby and Ryan just stayed on the ground until they were carried of to solitary.

*************************

"The riot leaders were Kareem Said, Simon Adebisi, Ryan O'Reily, Tobias Beecher, Miguel  
Alvarez and John Ross. They are currently in solitary.", McManus stated.  
"I need to talk to all of them.", Alva Case said.

*************************

The CO opened the door. Alva walked inside. He was greeted with a grin that conveyed both  
complacence and genuine amusement. He lounged on his bunk like he was sitting in a tea-room  
relaxing in the afternoon, reading the newspaper. Completely relaxed.  
"I take it you are leading the investigation.", he started before Alva could introduce himself,  
"I would offer you a chair, but as you see, I'm lacking quite a few basics of civilisation.", he  
made a gesture pointing around the cell, his voice containing both nonchalance and self-irony.  
Alva let out a surprised laugh. He started repeating the facts he'd just read in his file.  
"Tobias Beecher. Killed a girl while DUI. Upper class family. Went to Harvard. Successful lawyer  
in the family's lawfirm. Married. Three children.", he paused, "I went to Harvard too.", he made eye  
contact.  
"You see graduating from Harvard doesn't guarantee a successful life.", was Toby's response, "Or  
maybe I'm just the black sheep.", he added with a wink.  
"What led, in you eyes, to the riot?"  
"Being robbed of your individuality, your free will and the things defining your personality. But of  
course, that's what jail's for."  
"Quite philosophic, Mr. Beecher. And quite sardonic."  
"Oh, trust me, Mr. Case. Maximum Security prison does that. You should try it. A life altering  
experience."  
"Kareem Said was leading the Muslims, Simon Adebisi the Homeboys, John Ross the Aryans and  
Bikers, Miguel Alvarez the Latinos. You and Ryan O'Reily were the only two of the leaders of the  
riot that had no fire power behind them. Yet the others included you in all their decision making.  
Why is that?", Alva asked with genuine interest. He started to like this guy. He didn't know what  
he had expected when he'd read the file. But Tobias Beecher had been nothing of it. Going in  
there without any street credibility, he had somehow managed to move from his position of a victim,  
from the lowest possible position here, so he'd been told, to that of a predator.  
"Ahh", Beecher smiled and stretched on his bunk lazily, "You've been in court too, before you became  
Dean, right? You know what I've realised in here? A war here is not much different than a war in court.  
I never needed an army out there, why start here?"  
"I see. Thank you for your time, Mr. Beecher.", before he could turn to leave, Beecher had jumped  
up swiftly and walked close to him. Alva felt slightly uneasy for a moment. Then he saw his outstreched  
hand, Beecher smiling, fully aware of his line of thoughts. Alva took his hand into a firm grip.  
"A good day, Mr. Case.", he heard the voice trail after him when he left, the light amusement still  
swinging in it.


	3. Back in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The riot is over. Toby has passed his ordeal by fire, but now it's time to go back to Em City and decide what path is really for him to take. Has he even a choice any longer?  
> And there's always Schillinger. Toby might be good at making friends, but he's even better at making enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments!!!! They make me so happy!!! ((o(^-^)o)) *jumpinghappily*

**************************

"Hey, brother.", Ryan greeted him, when they were finally returned to Em City, "Time to really  
start running this place."  
Toby smiled at him, feeling for the first time, the self-confidence behind it, that had only been  
show so far.  
"I'd say it's time we step up to take our designed place among the top of the tits-trade.", he  
answered.   
Ryan laughed out in surprise mingled with delight, "I knew there was something in you, Beecher!  
So what do you say, who's the weakest link?"

*************************

"It's a new deal", McManus started, "A fair deal. I have identified nine groups. The Italians,  
the Homeboys, the Aryans, the Gays, the Muslims, the Christians, the Latinos, the Bikers  
and Miscellaneous aka the Irish/the Others."

*************************

"It's simple, Alvarez. We've been getting along well enough so far. No need for that to change.  
You do your trade with pills and stay out of the tits-trade. And we all can be friends.", Ryan lay  
down the law.  
"What's in it for me?"  
"You don't get on our bad side.", Toby said with that amused grin, bordering on insane, that he'd found  
to be very useful, when dealing with situations, that formerly would have scared him to death.

*************************

"What the fuck do you want here?", Peter Schibetta asked, when Ryan and Toby entered the   
room.  
"We're in. Alvarez' out.", Ryan answered, taking a seat in the classroom, Adebisi, Schibetta  
and Ross had gathered.  
"The prag stays out of this.", Ross snarled. His arm was still in a cast.  
"Why don't you come over here and say it to my face?", Toby answered, not budging an inch.  
"You say you're in, you're in. No problem with me.", Adebisi shrugged.  
"Let's get down to business."

"We're not done.", Ross said, stopping him, after the meeting.  
"I'm with you, though.", Toby answered looking Ross down, depreciatingly.  
"We'll see about that, Beecher. We'll see."

*************************

He didn't have to sell stuff. They had people who did that for them. He was just required to plot  
with Ryan all day. Watching all the other inmates, making those their eyes rested on feel   
trepidation.  
Suddenly he was in the middle of everything, instead of standing on the sideline observing.  
Suddenly he was one of the few people that ran things in Em City. Those the others looked at  
to see what was going to happen next.

Normally he wasn't expected to break some bones himself, so to speak, but had others who  
did that stuff for him. Nevertheless since day X, he'd spent most of his free time in the gym, so  
by now, he could hold his own, not only rhetorically but also physically. He didn't look much   
more impressive than before, but he hadn't trained to show off, but to fight. Ross had already  
learned that much during the riot.

*************************

Toby looked at himself in the mirror. Who are you now?, it seemed to say.  
"I'm Tobias Beecher. I run the tits-trade of the Irish. No one messes with me."  
He cracked up laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation.

*************************

"What are you doing here, Beecher?", Schillinger couldn't believe his eyes, when he saw  
Toby at his parole hearing.  
"Guess what?! I'll be speaking here, as somewhat of a character witness. I'm sure they'd love  
to hear what an eager practitioner of rape you are."  
Schillinger swallowed hard, "That's bullshit, there's never been a charge of that against me!"  
"Well, I've filed charges against you, now. Too late, of course to get you convicted of anything,  
but sure enough not too late to make a nice impression on the parole committee."

"That probably wasn't the smartest move.", Ryan concluded that evening.  
"Probably not, but I needed it."  
"What we really would have needed, would have been peace of mind. Not Schillinger out for   
blood. Though, I have to admit that it was both impressively executed and highly entertaining."  
"I'm sorry, Ryan.", Toby said far to cheerful to be taken seriously.  
"Hhh, I'm too soft on you."

**************************

"Good morning, Sister.", Toby greeted her jovially, when he came to work that morning.  
"Tobias, there's a topic, I didn't know how to address...But we really should talk about it.", she  
paused meaningful, "Do you really think this is the right path for you?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about?", he answered amicabially.  
"Do you think I'm a fool, Tobias? Everyone knows you're now majorly involved in the drug-trade  
in OZ.", she looked at him distressed, "I'm just trying to help you! Everything you tell me stays  
between the two of us.", she almost pleaded for his trust.  
"That's a very kind offer, Sister. But I have to decline. I reckon, I should get myself another   
work-assignment.", he got up.  
"No, Tobias! That's not what I meant. You can keep working here. But just...talk to me! Please."  
"What's there to talk, Sister? Obviously you've got all the answers."  
"I understand that you had a hard time here and the position you have now might look tempting  
by comparison."  
"'A hard time'? 'Might look tempting'? I had a little more than a *hard* time and hell yeah, my  
current position is a hell of a lot better than that! Weren't you the one who told me, I should  
love myself? Well, I'm trying to. I'm assuring that no matter what happens in the future, I'll  
come out on top, from now on."  
He saw her taken aback face and immediately felt bad. He still respected her highly and hadn't  
meant to insult her. But it was hard...being confronted by that kind of idealistic and basically  
unrealistic perceptions of life, people like her and McManus still entertained. When he knew   
better. When he knew so much better.  
He shot her an apologetic glance before he left and he could tell by her face that she knew that  
he was lost to her.

*************************

Toby was deeply in thought, when he made his way back, after work. Whittlesey let him go back  
from there without a guard, these days. It wasn't like he was a lot of trouble, well he was, but  
not that kind of trouble. Gene would bring the children tomorrow and he was on edge because  
of it, as usual. But a few nasty phone conversations between them, had made the situation even  
more unagreeable. He loved seeing his children, though he wanted to expose them to this kind  
of environment as little as possible. But he and Gene...While his parents only had a vague  
premonition, that something was wrong with him, Gene had a pretty clear idea of what his   
change in character ment. When she hadn't liked him being a prag, she liked him being a con   
even less.   
He hadn't anticipated the hand that was put over his mouth, nor the hands that grabbed  
his arms or the fist that buried itself in his stomach. Ross. He was able to make out that before  
his vision went black temporarily. He was being dragged out of the hallway into the gym, which,  
surprise, surprise, was empty. Now he saw that Schillinger was in on it too. He should have known.  
He quickly assessed the situation, while Schillinger started going on about his great revenge.  
Two guys where holding him, but except them there seemed to be just Schillinger and Ross.  
Only four, he was lucky. As far as one could call odds, of four against one, lucky.  
"Did you really think you could pull that shit on me, and I would let you get away with it?",  
Schillinger asked with faux puzzlement.  
"Jeez. Yeah, that's what I thought.", Toby answered sardonically, "You totally caught me by   
surprise." Well, he actually had.  
"But don't worry, we won't kill you.", Ross said with malicious smile, "We will make you our dog.  
We're going to walk you around on a chain.", he put a stress on every single word.  
"Ryan won't be happy about that.", Toby stated, playing for time.  
"Ryan can go and fuck himself!", Ross spat out, "Do you really think he'll shed a tear over your  
loss?! With you out of the game, he'll have enough trouble with the Latinos trying to get back   
in."  
Fair enough, Toby thought. Though he was by now pretty sure their friendship went a little deeper   
than that. But no matter the current status of their friendship, right now, he was on his own. And  
he'd really like to end this without any bloodshed, especially on his side.  
"But we're waisting precious time, let's get started.", Ross said with a dangerously amicable   
voice, "You first or me?", he asked Schillinger.  
"By all means, go ahead.", Schillinger answered equally cordially.  
Toby was roughly pushed to the floor.  
Ross looked down on him, with a sneer, while the two bikers, kept him down on his knees.  
"Suck my dick, prag."  
There were several things Toby had sworn himself to never do again. But it wasn't worth dying  
over it. He took Ross' dick in his mouth. Funny how the gag reflex was something, he'd   
seemingly overcome permanently.  
A high-pitched scream echoed through the gym. Ross had sunken to the floor, without anyone  
having yet realised what had happened. Toby spit out Ross' private parts and shot Schillinger a  
dirty look, saying, 'That could have been you.'. The bikers who held him down, where so  
startled they loosened their grip for a second. But that was enough time for Toby. He twisted   
out of their grasp and brought distance between them. He wasn't dumb enough to try to fight  
an enemy that clearly outnumbered him. He'd never had the illusion that anything he did, was  
based on courage, he was vividly aware that it all was about surviving. So he ran for the door and   
didn't stop running until he had reached the next CO (of whom he was sure, he wasn't bought.  
At least not by the wrong side.).

"Dammit!", Ryan cursed, "From now on you take back-up with you, wherever you go!", he shook  
his head angrily, "I can't believe they dared to. That's not the end of it. They will pay."  
"Ross already has.", Toby said drily.  
Ryan burst out a laugh, before adding, "I heard they weren't able to sew it back on."

*************************

Toby just came back with Ryan from the gym, when Miguel approached them. Times had been  
hard for him. Since El Cid had arrived Miguel had moved from the leader of the Latinos to a no  
one. The fact that he'd let himself get pushed out of the tits trade hadn't exactly strengthened   
his position either.  
"Can we talk?"  
"Sure.", Toby answered and they moved into the copypaper-room.  
"What's this about?", Ryan asked, arms crossed, leaning against one of the shelves casually.  
"We never had any trouble with each other right. I never had any problem with your part in the  
tits-trade. But El Cid, he wants you out."  
"That much I realised, this morning.", Ryan answered, referring to El Cid's kind suggestion to back   
out of the tits-trade, that had nearly had him and Toby ending up in the hole, "Do you have any *new*   
intel. Or are you just broadcasting yesterday's news?", Ryan asked.  
"El Cid wants me out of the picture. He told me to blind that hack, Rivera. Otherwise he'll kill me.  
But if I do it, I'll end up in solitary for the rest of my life. If you help me, I'll help you take out   
El Cid, and I promise you'll never have trouble with the Latinos again, concerning the tits-trade."  
"Who says we need your help, with El Cid?", Ryan asked contemplating the offer. He looked over  
to Toby. He'd been terribly silent all the time. While Miguel looked more desperate with the second,  
no matter how hard he tried to hide it.  
"Okay, what do you need?", Toby asked. Ryan hid his irritation with Toby making this decision by  
himself and waited to see his move.  
"I need protection from El Cid and the Latinos.", Miguel stated looking mortified.  
"You understand that that won't exactly benefit your reputation?", Toby asked.  
"Yes."  
Toby shot Ryan a questioning look, that Ryan answered, signaling agreement with his eyes. They  
had made an art of communitcation with just looks, by now. It unnerved the other inmates to   
no end.  
"Alright, welcome to the family.", Toby stated, "Act like nothings wrong until further notice."  
"Thank you."

After ligths-out Ryan and Toby were leaning against the front of their pod, looking into the night.  
"We need to switch pods, one of us is bunking with him until El Cid is dead. You or me?", Toby  
asked.  
"You started this whole shit. So you get to deal with El Cid. I take Alvarez. If he turns  
out to be annoying we switch again and you get him.", Ryan answered, the corner of his lips  
curling up in a mischivous smile.  
"Okay with me."  
"You know we could have dealt with El Cid on our own."  
Toby nodded, with a wry smile.  
"So you just felt especially altruistic today?"  
"Maybe I just personally dislike El Cid. Maybe I feel bad for Alvarez. It'll benefit us both in the   
end."  
"Whatever, have your little pro bono case."

*************************

"McManus, Miguel needs to switch pods, his life is in danger. You can put him with Ryan. And me  
wherever you want.", Toby was delivering their newest wish to McManus. The combination of   
guilt over what happened to Toby and owing him for saving Whittlesey from rape, two CO's from  
probale death and McManus himself from getting shot, had made it practically impossible for  
McManus to refuse any favor Toby asked of him, that wasn't too excentric. As Ryan put it, they  
might just as well get on a first name basis.

*************************

"What's the matter, Michael?", El Cid asked when Miguel sat down with Ryan and Toby in the  
cafeteria.  
"I explain it a simple as possible to you.", Ryan turned to face him, still sitting leisurely, "Miguel  
doesn't want to be friends with you any longer. Boohoo."  
"What you their new prag now?", El Cid asked with a sneer. Miguel wanted to jump up and retort  
something, but Ryan signaled him to stay quiet.  
"No, that position's still open. You're interested, Raoul?", Toby asked amicably.

**************************

"What do we do about him?", Toby asked, leaning against the plexiglass wall of their pod,   
"Should we just off him?"  
"Nah, too crude.", Ryan answered, settling more comfortably on his bunk, "This is an art, Beecher!  
You have to savor it. You have to be proud of your work."  
"You're so sick, you know that?", Toby chuckled.  
"Says the guy who branded a swastika into someones face.", Ryan retorted.  
"Touché."  
"See? You savored that moment. You're proud of it whenever you see your work. Keep going like  
that and we'll be unstoppable."  
"Don't get your hopes up.", Toby smiled ruefully, "Remember, some months ago, I was still   
looking for my balls."  
Ryan laughed, "You know, Beecher, You're fun to hang around. I knew that right from the start.  
Reminds me of working with my brother. I missed that, having someone else to...run things.  
But you know, you're sharper than Cyril. He's more straightforward. You're mind is as warped  
as mine."  
"Naturally. I'm a lawyer."

**************************

"Ryan we need to...Shit! Sorry..", Toby was covering his eyes with one hand, the other reaching  
for the door handle, "I..should have knocked.", he sputtered. Though he knew he wasn't making  
any sense. They were in prison! No one knocked! Especially not on the door of the supply closet.  
Ryan and Miguel had basically jumped away from each other, nearly knocking over shelves in  
their attempt to bring distance between them. Though it was already too late for looking innocent.  
Ryan was looking taken off guard for the first time, since Toby'd met him, "This is very..."  
"Embarrassing?", Miguel suggested.  
"Unexpected.", Toby tried for a polite answer, while Ryan looked, like he'd been cooked too long.  
"I'm just going to close this door and try to forget I ever saw this."

 

 


	4. Chris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the arrival of Chris! (as the title might hint)  
> Cyril also gets there at some point! (but doesn't get his own title)  
> Toby is dealing with self-doubt and guilt. And for the first time takes advantage of his new status.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please comments! And thank you so much for the comments and kudos so far! They make me incredibly happy!! (´∀｀●）
> 
> By the way, I don't speak spanish, so apologies if I got it very wrong. I was looking for something like "he's got a soft heart".

  
*****************************************

 

Chris eyed his new mark, while working out. Tobias Beecher. Ex-prag, now major player in the  
tits-trade and not completely sane. If you can trust the talk that's going on. Of course, sanity is  
in the eyes of the beholder.   
Chris was amazed how Vern could have judged someone so badly. But the guy surely didn't look   
his capability. Longish light brown hair brushed back, average height, not too built, more wiry. The   
slight stubble didn't do anything to cover up the boyish face.   
A former lawyer. Harvard. Chris laughed. That would have made a great plot for a movie.  
Suddenly Beecher looked over at him, and Chris' eyes were met by a steel gaze. The attitude  
behind these eyes as far from intimidated as could be. The look was challenging, 'Just do something.   
Make my day'.   
Chris gave a short nod towards him and turned back to his work out. Later he walked over   
while Beecher was getting ready to work with the weights. He realised that in contrary to the  
other hotshots, Beecher didn't have any bodyguards staying around him during workout. Was  
he cocky, careless or didn't he need any?  
"Need someone to spot for you?"  
Beecher gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, eyeing him from top to toe, smiling wrily.  
"What do you want?"  
"Just looking for a friend." Chris shrugged.  
"Right." He answered, clearly not beliving him.  
Beecher didn't ask 'Do you know who I am?', he knew that of course he did. He assessed Chris  
a moment longer, and then leaned back on the workbench, motioning for Chris to approach.  
"Alright, be my guest."

**************************

The whole El Cid thing was still running. So far, as scheduled. The other big groups kept quiet.  
What business was it of them? So far they hadn't figured out that just pushing the Latinos out  
of the tits-trade wasn't enough for them. Now they were going for a patch-over, as the Bikers  
would say. Toby had to smile. Neither Schibetta nor Adebisi would like the power balance disrupted,  
but they wouldn't know until it was too late.  
Toby was willing to stack up their man power with whoever available. They had anyway already   
become a colorful bunch, with Toby still associating with people like Rebadow and Busmalis and  
Miguel somehow belonging to them by now too. Concerning the latter, Toby still wasn't sure how  
it had happened, nor whether he really wanted to know the details.  
But they had enough on their mind with the El Cid business, as it was. And then there was of course   
the one topic, they both wouldn't give in even an inch about.   
Ryan had been furious and they still hadn't settled it. Ryan had called him about anything from "Stupid  
crack-whore" to "Pathetic delusional wimp". Of course in the secluded privacy of the storage room.  
They had to keep up the appearance of unity, after all.  
It wasn't until he'd called him "Schillinger's bitch" that he'd punched him, only to point out that this  
was exactly the point.  
Offering protection to anyone who was sexually harrassed in here. He hadn't bothered to run it by Ryan   
beforehand. What for? He'd say no anyway.  
Adebisi had gone berserk when his boy had run off. Ryan had asked Toby if he felt cocky enough to start a   
war, just because he was lifting some weights now. He had threatened to cut Toby loose if he became a problem.   
Which Toby knew he wouldn't. Ryan'd called him crazy more times than after the Ross incident. And this time it   
wasn't meant fondly.  
At the end Toby had sent the boy over to Said. The Muslims where more than willing to help him out in  
this. So there was officially no longer any ground to accuse Toby of keeping some of Adebisi's property.  
Even Ryan couldn't argue with that being a smooth way out. It had needed some cuts of their tits going  
to Adebisi to appease him. But at least a complete fallout had been averted.  
They would argue about it constantly, without any progress. Ryan would ignore Toby's declaration and Toby  
would ignore Ryan's protest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Don't you think something more should come out of it?! Other than more drugs and more dead bodies?  
It's the least I can do, given my position."  
"Trust me, it's not the way to keep said position."  
"Well, neither did I ask nor do I care for your opinion on this matter."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

And Toby knew he had to be careful, alright. Showing you cared was deadly in Oz. He had to tread carefully.  
Just as they had to pretend they'd taken Miguel in as a big fuck you to El Cid for trying to mess with them.   
He had to play this as a fuck you to Schillinger and his likes, for everyone to see: He didn't save those guys  
because he cared, but to show he could. Without repercussions.  
The men in Oz had no sympathy for sympathy. But demonstrations of power they understood.  
And even Ryan couldn't deny the benefit of Toby practically having McManus wrapped around his finger by now.   
McManus and Sister Pete were looking at him, these days, as if he was the wayward son that had suddenly gotten   
a full scholarship for college and at the same time invented a drug against cancer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"Shit, I think McManus had actual tears in his eyes! Maybe he's going to rename Em City to 'Tobias Beecher  
Memorial Hall'."  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby himself wasn't quite sure how far he'd succeeded in his pretense. Whether it made him seem stronger or   
weaker, in the eyes of the others, that he didn't give a shit about conventions.  
Whether they saw it as defiance against Schillinger (which to a big part it was) or a still too soft heart.  
But some things were worth fighting for. And he'd maybe taken Kathy Rockwell's life, but by now he'd also saved   
several lives. Keane's. McManus'. Maybe Miguel's. Definitely his own.   
But this was not the time to worry about his immortal soul or prison politics. He had worse problems right now. His   
parents were coming to visit.

**************************

"Toby how are you?" his mom asked.  
"I'm fine." Toby gave her his best reassuring smile. It wasn't easy to slip back into, who he'd  
been, when talking to his family. In here he was always waiting, always anticipating, always  
calculating the next move before the others could. But that's not the face to show your family.  
"Toby, I..." she took his father's hand for support. "We, don't know...you...seem to have changed."  
"I'm in jail mom, of course I seem different." he tried to laugh it off.  
"Since that horrible riot, your mother. " his father paused. "we both got the feeling that you're  
distancing yourself from us. We want to support you. We want to know what's happening."  
"Trust me, you don't want to know." it came out much more cynical than intended.  
"That's exactly what we are talking about. Maybe Genevieve could..."  
"Gene is divorcing me." he frowned annoyed, only for his face to changed to alarmed a moment  
later, realising what the implication that something was wrong with him, could mean. "Did the kids say   
something? Do they feel uncomfortable around me?"   
He wouldn't let Gene take the children from him. He wouldn't.  
"No, honey. They adore you. They miss you." his mom answered quickly. "We all do. But we're  
your parents" dramatic pause. "We know when something's going on with you."  
He felt himself getting slightly annoyed with his parents already. Their company was exhausting.  
Oh god. Being aware of his gradual change of character was unsettling, but there was nothing he   
could do about. He mustn't do anything about it. Because it was what kept him alive.  
"You don't have to worry. I had a tough time in the beginning, but I've finally managed to solve  
my problems. I'm getting along just fine right now." he squeezed his mom's hand.  
They were good people. They didn't deserve a son like him. The least he could do for them was  
not troubling them any further with how bad he really was. Gene had done exactly the right   
thing.

**************************

They were alone in the shower. Chris casually took the spot, beside Beecher. Appraising him out   
of the corner of his eye.  
His gaze came to rest on the scar, where Beecher had cut away the branding he'd been given by  
Schillinger. Must have hurt like a motherfucker, especially without booze or drugs, to numb the  
pain. This was going to be a tough one.  
He had to tread carefully, or this guy would cut his losses and write him off as collateral   
damage.  
Toby felt his gaze on him. He always felt it when someone looked at him. It still made him uneasy,  
especially in the shower. Though, these days no one dared to look at him in »that« way.  
"Hey, I'm all alone here. With no one to back me up. I just wanna belong to your crew." Chris  
moved closer to Beecher.  
Beecher's hand moved up to Chris' throat, stopping his movement. Chris let him.  
"What now, Keller? You're asking to be my prag?"  
Chris took his hands up all defensively, flashing a usually disarming grin.  
"Hey, just asking. No harm done."  
Slowly Toby took his hand back. Chris immediately backed off and left the showers. Toby   
looked after him, wondering what this guy was about. His whole chum-attitude made him feel  
uneasy.

"What did that guy want?" Miguel, who'd just entered, asked.  
"It's okay, I can deal with it, thanks."  
Toby didn't escape the fine irony of Ryan having originally been the one who hadn't wanted to help   
Miguel. And now being the one who was...dating was probably the wrong word. But it wasn't just  
fucking. Ryan didn't do that. Hadn't done before.

**************************

"I assume, you realise it'll be hard getting close to him, without sharing pod, Vern." Chris stated  
with a raised eyebrow.  
"That won't be a problem much longer. O'Reily's brother's coming to OZ. Then Beecher'll be  
single again. Ready to start a big happy family with you."

**************************

"O'Reily's brother's coming to OZ."  
"Yeah? I heard, he'd got his brain bashed in a year ago and now he's slow."  
"I heard he went on a killing-spree before the cops caught him."  
"He can't talk any longer, because of the brain damage, he just howls"  
"If he's really slow, for what did he get send to OZ?"

***************************

"O'Reily's brother is in Unit B now."  
"Did you see him?"  
"Does he make animal sounds?"  
"Looks like he's a lot less muddled in the brain than we thought, yo. He sent Robson straight   
to the infirmary for trying to make a pass on him."

***************************

After finally getting out of the hole, Cyril walked into Ryan's pod carrying his stuff. They hugged   
heartily.  
"Yo, little brother."  
"Yo, big brother.  
"Damn, you look great. Fucking doctors said you'd never wake up from that coma."  
"What can I say, Irish luck. But seriously, who started this rumor about me having brain   
damage?"  
"Did you have trouble?"  
"Did you ever see me getting into trouble I couldn't handle?"  
"True. By the way, this is Beecher. We're doing part of the tits-trade here together. He's also  
the one who convinced McManus to send you to Em City."  
They shook hands.   
"You still owe me for this, Ryan. When I went over to McManus to get you guys switched into one  
pod, he was pretty pissed. After all he'd only recently put you two" He motioned between Miguel  
and Ryan. "into a pod." Toby hadn't really understood why they didn't stay that way. But Ryan and  
Miguel had decided that it would look suspicious if he wasn't rooming with his brother. And they   
were still dead scared of anyone finding out. "It gave him the idea to make me sponsor of this strange   
new guy, who seems to be following me around. I have to room with him now. "  
"Maybe he's in love." Ryan joked.  
"He'd better not."  
"You think you got it bad?" Cyril joked. "I have to listen to Ryan and Miguel fucking every night now."  
"Be grateful I got you the only three-men cell in whole Em City." Toby rebuked him.  
"How did you even do that?" Cyril asked curiously.  
"Oh, you know, all Beecher has to do is bat those eyelashes and McManus is putty in his hands."

***************************

"Alright tough-guy" Toby eyed Chris derogatorily. "I don't care who you are or what you did  
outside, but this is my pod. You got the lower bunk." with that he climbed onto his bunk and   
started reading.  
"Alright tough-guy" Chris returned drily, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. "Your  
house, your rules." This was going to be interesting. Chris enjoyed a good game, and this was  
starting to look like one.

**************************

He heard the noises at night. Unexpected, but it looked like the notorious Tobias Beecher had  
a nightmare. Well, it happens to the best of us.  
Chris got up, leaning against the sink and watched Beecher with the fascination of a student  
at school disecting a frog.  
A smile moved over his face. Another thing to turn against Beecher. Another angle to play him.

**************************

"Is it murder when you only plan it and you never directly suggested it to someone?"  
"You're the lawyer. You tell me." Ryan answered with a carefree grin. He was like a fish in  
water. This was his game. This was what he breathed for.  
Toby just stayed silent, his head sinking a little further as if weighted by guilt.  
"Is it really the thought of killing someone that scares you? You seemed to be pretty willing to  
do so if need be."  
"This is not about surviving of facing a threat. This is just plotting and playing those damned  
mind-fucks that you love so much."  
"Power, Beecher. Power. Savour it. I told you that before. And if it helps, no one in here is   
exactly innocent."  
"Isn't it like playing god?"  
"First of all, thanks, I'm honored. Second, polititians are doing it everyday. And so far there hasn't  
been a lightning bolt sent from heaven to strike them down."

**************************

It was the third day of lockdown after one of the homeboys had been killed by the Latinos.  
Chris strongly suspected that this little outbreak had been carefully set up by Beecher and  
O'Reily.  
Nevertheless, planned or not, Beecher was getting itchy with each passing day. He occupied  
himself with reading all day long. And unlike the other inmates, for Beecher it didn't meaning  
looking at skin-mags.   
He started to see the Harvard-lawyer underneath the tough gangleader.  
What was starting to get unnerving to Beecher, was a great opportunity to Chris. He could study  
him as closely as possible, learning what made him tick. Slowly getting into his comfort zone.   
Sooner or later Beecher would ask for his company.

What Chris couldn't see, despite his close scrutiny, was Toby constantly agonizing over his decision.  
Always repeating in his mind that it had saved not only Miguel but also the eyes of that CO.  
But Toby was scared. Scared shitless of waking up one day and realising that he was just as bad as   
them. And every second he spent in here pent up with Keller was pushing him closer to the brink.  
There's nothing more uncomfortable than being on close space with someone you don't know and  
don't trust.  
But of course it could be worse. He could be here with Schillinger.  
Something about Keller was rubbing him the wrong way. This guy was too confident, too cocky. Too  
interested in a guy like him. But on the other hand, he still had a wrong perception of himself. These  
days he was the guy you wanted to know. But damn, he didn't want to be that guy. Or more precisely  
he didn't want it to feel so fucking good to be that guy.  
Power. Savour it. It's an art. Toby felt ashamed. Damn it, this fucking lockdown had to end or he would  
maybe have a nervous breakdown or develope multiple personalities.

**************************

"Stop pacing."  
Ryan's answer was a semi-annoyed growl, while he kept staring out the pod as if he really could see anything  
in the dark of the night. Miguel sighed and turned around on his bunk.  
"He's a grown-up man, you know that?"  
"Fuck it, Miguel! You know how he is!"   
"Jesus! If you're so worried why don't you switch back pods, so you can hold his hand all night?!"  
Cyril had so far watched the interaction between the two in silence and without any outward sign that he was   
even listening. Now he propped himself up on his ellbows and addressed the two.  
What the fuck was the problem with Beecher? He'd seemed all right for what Cyril had seen. There had been  
a certain degree of jealousy on his side once he came to Oz, for his big brother having found another right   
hand man, but he liked Beecher alright.   
What had weirded him out far more had been his brother's »consort« or whatever he should call him. The Irish   
weren't in the habit of taking prags, but neither were they of having boyfriends. But compared to Ryan's other  
relationships, this one seemed to be pretty low on collateral damage so far. And as long as he didn't get hit  
over the head again, who was he to complain?  
"So far, I don't know »how« he is. Would someone care to tell?!" Cyril asked the two.  
Ryan only motioned for Miguel to tell, still trying to see what's going on in Toby's pod.  
"Es todo corazón, that's what's wrong with him." Miguel muttered. "He's not one of us."  
"And what »us« would that be?" Cyril raised an eyebrow. "Prisoners? Americans? People in general?"  
"Criminals." Ryan answered for him.  
"Didn't look like that to me." Cyril assessed.  
"There's a lot Beecher doesn't look like." Ryan huffed.  
"Come on." Cyril didn't miss the hand that was placed on Ryan's arm with the ease of habit. "It's not like he's   
going to kill himself. He's still got that Keller-guy in there with him."  
"Sure" Nor did he miss how Ryan shifted a fraction so their shoulders were touching. "But what if he does something   
stupid?"  
Miguel laughed. "He does stupid things all the time. Like, saving my ass."  
"And there I thought it was »my« ass now." Ryan replied with a smirk.  
"Guys, if you're about to start making out, I have to remind you that you have to sleep in those sheets until   
the lockdown is over."  
So far there hadn't been much need for Cyril to cover his eyes, or ears for that matter. Instead of the usual   
'what happens in prison stays in prison' they were more like 'what no one sees never happened'. And everyone  
knew the supply closet near the infirmary was off limits. Though few knew that it had experienced a drastic   
change of purpose since the days Ryan and Toby used to hold council of war in there.

**************************

"Hey Beecher, how about playing cards?"  
"No..." Beecher answered curtly, but the hesitant pause told Chris, that he'd moved to first base,   
"Can you play chess?"  
Oh yeah, now he could definitely see the Harvard-boy.  
"No" Self-deprecating grin. "but I could learn."  
"Okay.." the noncommital face turned slowly into a controlled yet sincere upwards turn of the corners   
of his mouth. "..why not."  
Got you!

**************************

Chris was lying in his bunk, feigning sleep, when Toby woke up like he, as Chris had learned by now,  
did nearly every night. He climbed down from his bunk, soaked in sweat, breathing hard, and  
threw a panicked look towards Chris' bunk, to see if he was still asleep, before he went to the  
sink to splash cold water in his face.  
This was nothing that should have happened. Ryan knew about his nightmares. But Ryan had  
his trust, he wouldn't turn it against him. But, shit, if it made the round, that Tobias Beecher still  
had nightmares about accidentally killing that girl, or getting raped by Schillinger, or his not exactly  
honorable deeds inside Oz, he would be finished. Up till now, Keller had proven himself to be a sound   
sleeper. Toby took in another staggering breath, stripped out of his wet clothes and went back to take   
another chance at exhausting and emotionally draining rest.

**************************

McManus knows the balance is precarious if not nonexistant. He's not fool enough to believe that   
action isn't followed by reaction. Diane tells him to stop worrying when they're alone at night,  
trying to pretend that they could escape this prison once they get home.  
Tobias Beecher is walking the fine line between Kareem Said and Ryan O'Reily, managing nevertheless  
to make it something entirely his own.  
McManus can't pretend that he doesn't care, he cares even for people far below Beecher, why not   
for one of the few men who managed to stay human in here?  
He wishes he could see what they're plotting. Stop it somehow. Rip the evil out by the root. But  
as always he won't know until there's no other job left for him than cleaning up the corpses,   
putting some in the hole and start an investigation. Maybe he'll even have to send someone to deathrow.  
At least there are so far no deaths McManus can directly associate with Beecher. Though it's probably   
naive to think that it's all O'Reily's doing.  
Drugs, murder. At the end Beecher is just another con like all the rest. Only he isn't.  
McManus feels like he's always four steps behind those two. Everybody knew something was up since   
the day Alvarez' sat down with them at lunch. There's been an omnipresent current running through  
Em City. And no one is sure what kind of dance Beecher and Schillinger are performing and what awaits  
them during the freestyle part.  
This time, as most of the times, his investigation has brought up nil. Now they've been out of   
lockdown for half and hour. And already the older O'Reily is sauntering through the main hall, his   
eyes speaking of money, drugs and trouble. At the same time Beecher, Cyril O'Reily and Alvarez are   
moving towards their destinations in other parts of Em City.   
Seemingly unconnected he knows it will weave a definit pattern in the end. He's unable to see it,  
though, yet he should probably take comfort in the fact that the others don't seem to either. Only  
maybe Said, who's watching Beecher his face drawn into concerned and disapproving lines.  
"I remember how he first came to Oz." Diane says walking into his office with fresh coffee. "They   
grow up so fast."

**************************

When Toby left the cafeteria, he saw some of the Aryans, including Mark Mack, cornering Chris.  
He walked over to them. Someone messing with his podmate was questioning his authority.  
"Hey boys" he greeted the Aryans. "Did your kindergarden-teacher forget to pick you up?"  
"What? He's your bitch now, Beecher?" Mark Mack asked. His laughing was abruptly stopped  
when Toby brought his face down onto his knee, breaking his nose with a wet cracking noise.  
"My podmate is off limits for you. Now go play somewhere else, ladies." Toby declared, letting  
Mark Mack fall to the floor.  
A CO had been attracked by the ruckus.  
"What's the matter here?!"  
"He accidentally fell. I think he needs to go to the infirmary." Toby answered with a concerned  
voice.  
"Hey, thanks." Chris said, when they were on their own.  
"I didn't do it for you. A harrassed podmate would just have been trouble."

**************************

"Beecher? You asleep?"  
"No." came the answer. His voice broadcasting both slight annoyance and disinterest.  
Dammit, what had Schillinger done to this guy? Getting closer to him, was like trying to open   
a clam with a toothpick.  
"It's still fucking early. I just wanted to talk."  
"Talk to yourself, if you must."  
"Hey, I know you're tough and everything. But I haven't done anything to you. So there's no   
need to treat me like I've got a contagious disease."  
Silence.  
A sigh.  
"Alright, talk."  
Exactly. A grin spread over Chris' face. Deep down he's still exactly the same softy, he's always  
been. 

**************************

"Mr. Beecher, I appreciate your taking the time to see me."  
"Well, you know, it's a nice break from getting fucked up the ass."  
"Beecher."  
"It's all right. You can speak freely. I'm afraid in court you never had that chance."  
"Would it have made a difference?"  
"No."  
"Lady, what do you want?"  
"I've been a judge for 16 years. I've made over 2500 decision, most of them  
were good, but only one has haunted me. Yours. You see, I've always prided myself on being   
fair, that in my court justice was truly blind. But in your case, that little girl, her parents crying,   
you being a member of the bar, your prior arrest for DUI, the senselessness of it all, it caught   
up with me. I was quick-tempered and spiteful to the point where I can't tell if I gave you a fair  
trial. Now, seeing you like this..."  
"Seeing me like what?!" he sneered at her. "What are you seeing, your Honor." he spread his  
arms.  
"I've read your file Mr. Beecher. I'm sorry for what happened to you. I think maybe the   
punishment exceeded the crime." she could look him in the eyes.  
"You say you're haunted by your decision. Well so am I. But whether your decision was right or  
wrong, whether there's a amount of time that can make up for taking another life. The fact  
remains: I'm in here and I will stay in here. And we can both be as sorry as we want, because  
it is not going to change anything. Kathy Rockwell is dead and I'm in here."  
And she was, wasn't she? No matter what had changed. No matter how far he'd detached   
himself from his former life, to the point that it seemed unreal that he'd ever been someone  
else. He might be able to get over the drugs. He might even be able to get over Schillinger.   
But that girl with braids on that bicycle would never leave him alone.  
"Are you going to accept my apology?" she asked self-consciously.  
"I don't know." his smile was bordering slightly on insane. "I forgave myself. So I might as well   
forgive you too." he snorted. "Okay, I forgive you. Now you can go home and tell yourself that  
everything's just fine again and your conscience is clean." he leaned back in his chair with a  
chuckle. "So, McManus, are you satisfied with my little performance. Or should we maybe kiss  
and make up?"

************************

Chris watched Beecher walking back to their shared pod, looking numb. The short searching glance   
didn't escape Chris. Looked like Beecher needed someone to talk to. Or maybe brood beside.  
Before Chris had moved out of the shadows, making his presence known, he saw a well-known green   
shape come up the stairs.

"Yo, man. You okay?"  
"Just had a little catch up with an old friend." Toby answered Ryan tiredly.  
"I got something to cheer you up." he grinned and pulled out a big green Basketball shirt like the   
ones he and Cyril used to wear. "You're officially declared a honoric member of the O'Reily family."  
Toby couldn't help but smile. "You're going for cooperate identity or something?"

Another time then.

*************************

Chris likes watching people. He can do it for hours. Watching. Learning. Most people think they're   
smarter than him. Schillinger for example. But they're not. Schillinger was never in control of him   
and never will be. O'Reily doesn't presume he's smarter than Chris that's one of the reasons he might  
in fact be.  
Everything Chris does he does entirely and exclusively for Chris Keller. The only person he's ever loved   
is Chris Keller. And even that love isn't exactly solid. He likes playing people. Seeing how far he can   
push them. He likes the mosaic that forms once everything shatters. He knows the beauty of destruction.  
Beecher doesn't, he can tell. Not yet.  
Chris watches Beecher and Schillinger move past each other in the cafeteria. He loves watching them. They  
just have to be in the same room, not even in the proximity of each other. Yet when one of them enters  
the room the other is immediately aware of it. They're precisely tuned to each other. Registering even  
the slightest gesture of the other. So fixed on each other that they consider every action of the other  
directed at themselves.  
Chris watches the natural nonchalance and distinct disgust with which Beecher walks past Schillinger's   
table. He wonders how long it took him to perfect that performance. Such things take time, Chris should   
know, he's a grandmaster in the art of acting.   
Beecher doesn't walk fast. He takes his time. His gaze leisurely moves over Schillinger's goons. When  
his eyes come to rest on Ross, a corner of his mouth twitches slightly. He moves on to Schillinger.  
Their eyes hold as many promises for each other as those of two lovers do. Only instead of love and   
tender kisses, promising pain, blood and the tender embrace of death. Vowing to forever be faithful   
and hate no one more than the other.  
» I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will honor this   
enmity like no other and hate you all the days of my life. Till death do us part.«

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment! Comment! Comment! (｡◕ฺˇε ˇ◕ฺ｡）  
> I won't get angry if it's criticism either. (...well, maybe a little Σ(ﾟ口ﾟ; ) ) (...no, just kididing ┐(´∇｀)┌ )(...or maybe not? ψ(｀∇´)ψ )


	5. All That Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan gets sick. Toby is left alone in the midst of their war with El Cid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find mistakes, be it grammatical, spelling or logical, please inform me!
> 
> Thanks for kudos and comments!!!

********************************

He could tell by Miguel's face that something was seriously wrong.  
"Toby! Ryan broke down in the gym!"  
Poison? Overdose? Schillinger? Adebisi? Did Schibetta find out the truth? The possibilities raced  
through Toby's head. And they were endless.

*************************

The truth as it turned out was by far worse than he could have imagined.  
"Cancer?!"  
That mustn't be true! But he could tell it was by the way Miguel's knuckles turned white, gripping  
around the headboard of Ryan's hospital bed, they both knowing that they couldn't show more closeness  
than that.  
Toby felt like someone had pulled the rug from under his feet. No. No. No. He couldn't loose Ryan.  
He was helpless without him. There wasn't...There..It...Everything they'd built would come crushing  
down on them.  
Oh god. And he hadn't even told Cyril.

*************************

They'd decided to keep quiet about it for as long as possible. The word was, Ryan was down with food  
poisoning. They had all agreed on it after they'd talked to Cyril finally.  
He had taken the news much better than Toby had expected. Reasonable and calm.  
Or so Toby had thought. Until Cyril ended up in the hole the same evening, after beating the shit out of  
one of the Aryans for practically no reason at all.  
Great, just what Toby'd needed. Another man down.

*************************

His world was falling apart and he was additionally feeling guilty for thinking about himself, when Ryan  
was the one who had to deal with it.  
But with Cyril in the hole and Miguel leaving Ryan's bedside only for meals (it benefited him now greatly  
that he worked in the infirmary) Toby was on his own again.  
Sure, he had the Irish and he knew he'd done this work before. There shouldn't be such a difference  
without Ryan. But Toby knew what sickness meant. Those dogs could smell weakness. And those who  
had never really accepted Toby (though they didn't disrespect him to his face) would go against him  
now that Ryan was (temporarily, hopefully) out of the picture.

But all fears for his own future aside, Ryan was far more than a friend. He was family. He couldn't lose  
him. Ryan had been there for him, when he'd had no one.  
He'd make damn sure that Ryan wouldn't be alone in this.

*************************

It was the first meeting alone with Schibetta and Adebisi. It had been three days since Ryan's  
diagnosis.  
"A little bird has told me, O'Reily won't be leaving the infirmary anytime soon." Peter started their  
conversation.  
"I wouldn't listen to anything that sings. And anyway what's it to you? If you want to send him a  
'get well'-card, feel free."  
Adebisi laughed. Schibetta only looked pissed off. Suddenly Pancamo took a step forward.  
"You know, Beecher, we're just a little worried.", he said, patronisingly. "Can you handle biz all  
by yourself?"  
Toby demonstratively ignored him, turning over to Schibetta.  
"Do I have to deal with your goons now? I thought we were here to talk business."  
"Shut up, Chucky." Peter rebuked him.  
Pancamo was visibly taken aback by the dress down, but stepped back anyway.  
"The thing is," Peter continued. "Can you handle the work-load? Maybe, we should bring El Cid  
or Ross back in."  
"That's right," Adebisi chimed in. "Wouldn't want tits to roll any slower, would we?"  
"I don't know if you need someone to wipe you're ass for you, while another one holds your dick,  
but I can handle shit on my own." Shit, being the operative word. Toby was never sure how to  
deal with those people. Insult them enough to show you're on the same level as them, but not  
enough to really offend them. It was always a matter of very fine degrees. Ryan was fluent in  
this kind of talk, but Toby hadn't grown up on the street. To him all this seemed incredibly  
offensive. Conducting a business meeting in such a tone would have seemed ridiculous before. And  
with Ryan, Cyril and Miguel currently out of the picture, he had no one among their own goons he  
would have trusted enough to take to such a meeting. Or more precisely, trust would have been nice  
under normal circumstances, but these days he would have taken anyone who'd at least have enough  
wit for such an occasion.  
To his great relief Adebisi laughed again and both of them looked like he'd somewhat gotten  
their approval.  
"Alright Beecher, we'll be expecting the next delivery on Monday."  
"Sure, everything according to schedule."  
With that he was of the hook again for the time being. Shit - Calm down, Beecher. You're a  
tough-ass lawyer. You fucking run on adrenaline.

*************************

"You still want in?" Toby asked.  
Chris nodded determined.  
"Alright, I'm giving you a chance." Toby had had very mixed feelings about taking this step, but  
he'd talked it over with Ryan and they had agreed on taking Chris in, he wasn't just a mindless  
brute like some of the dealers and bonebreakers that worked for them. He would have to proof  
himself, but once he did, they could place some of the management on him. It would take a lot  
of pressure of their heads. And right now, they needed some room to breath more than anything  
else. And before he took someone like Timmy Kirk as his new right hand man, he'd rather take  
Keller.

Later in their pod, Chris casually asked. "So, when's the next delivery coming in?"  
"None of your business. When we want you to know, you will know."  
"Testy, testy." Chris shook his head in mock disapproval. This time he saw that Toby had to surpress  
a laugh instead of bristling. This guy had some serious trust issues. And who could blame him?  
But he was getting there, at the speed of a geriatric snail, but nevertheless.

Toby, on the other hand, had no intention to make it that easy for Keller. He would put Keller to  
the test. Maybe some job in the El Cid business. Nothing that requested knowledge of any internas  
of the operation. Just something to prove his dedication to »the cause«.  
Just because Keller maybe wasn't as awful as expected, that didn't mean Toby would trust him,  
he'd be a fool to. And there were maybe a lot of words that had applied to him at one point or  
another - naive, alcoholic, bitch, pansy, crazy, failure - but 'fool' wasn't among them.

**********************

He couldn't allow his breath to come out hitched. Not with Keller in the room. Not with three hours  
left till lights-out.  
Everything went well so far. He hadn't run their business into the ground. Yet. But he felt like he was  
having a major panic attack right now. All responsibility was on him now. If he fucked up, no one would  
be there to save him. But when had ever been saved here before. People in Oz didn't get saved, they got  
worse.

**********************

"Shake down! Shake down!"  
Schillinger gave Toby a dirty smile across the hall. How had he found out about delivery being  
this monday? He gave Keller an angry glance, which he returned with a 'What?'-look.  
Schillinger's face was priceless, when the hacks didn't find a thing inside Toby's pod. Toby threw  
him a kiss across the floor.  
But now back to the Keller-business.  
"Explain to me, Keller, why the moment I take you in, there's a shake down?"  
Chris was asking himself the same thing. He really needed to have a word with Vern. Schillinger  
needed to keep his feet still if he wanted Operation-Toby to be successful.  
"What would I have to tell? It's not like I know anything about your plans." Chris shrugged,  
giving him a guilt-inducing performance of hurt feelings.  
Fair enough, Toby thought. He needed to distribute some false information and wait to see where  
it popped up again.  
"Alright, Keller, I believe you." No, he didn't. "You stay here and watch Schillinger."

Chris watched Beecher leave, to meet up with Billy Keane, knowing quite well, that Beecher was  
testing whether he would spill anything about what he'd seen. Some time later Beecher handed  
Adebisi some new tits. Interesting, based on curiosity Chris would have liked to get to the bottom  
of it, but his job wasn't getting behind their smuggling-routes, but getting into Beecher's pants.

All in all it had been successful. The new delivery had savely arrived and both Adebisi and Schibetta  
were pacified. Toby's new route was maybe unconventional but it worked smoothly. The other gangs would  
have probably refused to work with the gays but Toby thought it would have been an waste of opportunity  
not to. No one expected them to get in over the AIDS-ward, though there you had everything: least security,  
least suspicion. Billy Keane and his friends in Gen Pop had still connections to them. And seriously, no one  
bothered to have a shake down in AIDS-ward. So whenever the book-cart from the library rolled past their  
unit, there was suddenly a high interest in books.

**********************

Cyril would get out of the hole today, thank god, but nevertheless Toby had his meeting now.  
"Keller, you're coming with me this time."  
"Okay."

"Beecher," Adebisi greeted him cheerfully. "That's some good shit you got there."  
"I aim to please." Toby answered, brushing off the phial of heroin Adebisi was offering.  
"I think we all agree that there's no need for bringing in people who know shit about the  
business. Ross should stick to running cigarettes and the Latinos are barely able to handle  
their own."  
"Agreed." Schibetta nodded. "If O'Reily's a goner, feel free to take over."  
"Appreciated." Toby had no desire for that to happen.  
To his surprise Keller had been perfectly still and contained during this exchange. Toby hadn't  
picked him for the kind of guy who's used to standing in the background.

"Hey, thanks for that chance." Keller said once they'd left.  
"That wasn't a chance, I could have taken anyone with me. You just seemed to be the lesser  
evil."  
"Well, that's a step up the ladder I'd say."  
Toby snorted.  
"You need someone to have your back. Let me have your back. And if it doesn't work out, you  
can still shank me afterwards."  
Toby didn't know how to take that offer. So he said nothing.

**********************

It was strange, just the two of them sharing pod, though Miguel was dead glad he wasn't alone  
any longer.  
Cyril and he hadn't really associated before. Normal day to day stuff, but Cyril hadn't been  
exactly overjoyed about him and Ryan.  
And now his temper was insufferable. He would explode at the slightest affront. Miguel couldn't  
blame him. He was on edge constantly too. Especially when he couldn't show his worry around  
Ryan. And researching cancer-recuperation statistics online when he wasn't with him, didn't  
exactly relax him either. He felt bad for letting Toby down. But Toby'd told him, that he was glad  
Miguel was being with Ryan when he couldn't. Again, stupid but necessary displays of indifference.  
Showing he cared too much about Ryan would have seemed weak. Cyril could completely lose  
it in front of everyone. He was his brother. Family was different. The others understood.  
But Miguel and Toby were tied down to commitments of necessity and personal gain.

Miguel's hopes that breakfast would go relatively uneventful, where smashed soon.  
"Hey, did that fucker just give me a look?!" Cyril was half off the table already.  
"Yeah, just go ahead. Get yourself send to the hole again, why don't you?" Miguel couldn't keep  
the acid out of his voice, after having barely slept the past weeks (both of them) and being constantly  
exposed to the gloomy silence between them in their pod (what was there to talk that they didn't both  
know, with the almost palpable presence of Ryan), being civil seemed too much of an effort.  
Toby just stayed cool, grabbing Cyril's arm, pulling him back to his seat, without really looking up  
from his meal.  
"Calm down, Cyril. I need you here."  
"Sorry, Toby." The younger O'Reily deflated.  
Miguel was amazed and envious. The only person Miguel had ever seen Cyril apologize to, was  
Ryan. If he'd half of Toby's peoples skills he would have a lot less awkwardness after lockdown.  
Though the fighting at least took their minds off the ever present possible. Toby's read dozens  
of articles online and had discussions with Dr. Nathan where they would both frown at each other in  
concentration, exchanging heated words in hushed voices, while Miguel could only stand by Ryan's side,  
acting as if they didn't know they were talking about him.  
Miguel had to think about his son. He hadn't had much luck with hospitals and diseases. Would Ryan  
be taken from him too?

He was woken from what felt like approximately ten minutes sleep by a sniffling sound coming  
from around the sink. At first he thought Cyril was sick.  
"Shit, man." He was completely taken off guard. "Get a grip." Cyril wasn't looking like he'd be  
getting a grip anytime soon. The sobs were mixing with the beginning of hick-ups in a way that  
reminded Miguel too much of a little kid. He crouched down beside him.  
"Come on. It's going to be okay." He somewhat awkwardly put a hand on Cyril's shoulder,  
expecting it to be slapped away as appropriate.  
"What if he's going to die?!" The utter desperation and helplessness in Cyril's voice made him  
almost want to cry too. Because that was the question. The question Miguel mustn't ever allow  
himself to ask. Because there was no answer. He bit down on his lip hard, trying to chase away  
the memories of his little son lying in his arms and the doctors telling him that he was going to  
die. He pulled Cyril in a half-hug.  
"He's not. You hear me? He's not going to die!"  
"How can you be sure?!"  
"We can never be sure. We can only pray."  
"I don't believe in god."  
"You don't believe in god? Why exactly are you and Ryan running around with those crosses  
then? Trying to fit the image of the good catholic Irish?"  
"Habit." Cyril gave back somewhat grumpy, yet not moving out of Miguel's hug. "I thought your  
baby died. Doesn't seem like praying worked that well for you."  
"My baby didn't die because god failed me. My baby died because me and my girlfriend were  
doing drugs during her pregnancy." Miguel answered with a calm and resolve that surprised  
Cyril. "Come with me see Father Mukada tomorrow."  
Cyril only nodded.  
They two moved apart with a new understanding of each other. Tied together by shared pain  
and shared love for one person.

**********************

When Miguel started his shift that morning. Ryan was giving him a dirty look across the floor.  
Miguel only shot him a questioning look back which resulted in Ryan huffing and turning his  
back to him. What the fuck?  
Dr. Nathan was sending him on errands all day, so there wasn't really a way to talk to Ryan.  
Around lunch he finally had some time to catch his breath.  
"Ryan?" No reaction. "O'Reily!" Miguel snapped his finger in front of Ryan's face. "What's your  
fucking problem?!"  
"News travel fast here." Ryan answered acerbically.  
"Awesome. What of it?"  
"You've been seen making out with Cyril last night. It's nice to know the void I've left has been  
filled."  
"Are you shitting me?"  
"I could ask you the same thing!" Ryan yelled, lowering his voice immediately when Dr. Nathan looked  
their way.  
Miguel laughed disbelievingly, "We weren't making out. I was just comforting him."  
"Sure, some comfort you are."  
"Fuck you, Ryan! How about you believe me? You of all people should know that you can't trust gossip.  
And even if you don't trust me, give Cyril some credit."  
Ryan gave him a long look, and Miguel almost expected something along the lines of "Can't shit a shitter."  
"Comforted, huh?"  
"Comforted, huh." Miguel deadpanned.  
Ryan's anger seemed to grumble, leaving him somewhat embarrassed.  
"Did you really think I'd dump you because you've got a chicks disease and lost your hair?" He let his  
hand wander over Ryan's skull. An indulgence he only allowed himself because the currently few other  
patients were asleep.

**********************

He would survive, Toby knew that now. He would manage. Even without Ryan (though he would fight for him to  
the last). The past weeks had shown him that much. Somehow, somewhere he'd moved out of Ryan's shadow, without  
even knowing. He wasn't any longer just Ryan's little sidekick. He had sidekicks of his own now.  
He saw new ones coming into Oz everyday. Scared, fumbling, trying to blend in. Prey. And he knew that wasn't  
him any longer, with a painful clarity.

**********************

Chris found Toby talking to some Latinos. Well, talking was the wrong word, the situation seemed  
to be short of a brawl. He got closer without drawing attention to himself.  
When one of them lunged forwards to punch Toby, Chris caught his arm, twisting it behind his  
back. Then he stepped back, without a word, as not to give Toby the feeling that he was taking over  
this situation. To the Latinos it must look, like he was just another of Toby's underlings, doing  
the dirty work for him at a words notice.  
Toby finished his work, with coldness and efficiency. The Latinos took of, looking severely beaten,  
though Toby's attack had only been verbal.  
The whole time Toby hadn't spared Chris even a glance, now he turned to him. Chris spoke first, though.  
"Why are you dealing with such lowlifes? I could have done that for you."  
"I don't like unasked for help. I could have handled those." Toby said, narrowed eyes staring at Chris.  
Chris could practically hear the gears turning in Beecher's head, while he tried to figure Chris out,  
not knowing whether to be pissed or something else.  
"I know you could have." Chris said it so simply and with conviction, as if it was an empiric truth  
and talking about it was just a waste of time.  
"Okay." Toby answered, the looming hostility gone from his voice. And Chris knew he'd won another battle.

**************************

"Alright, Keller. Here's you're big chance. You hide this stash in Adebisi's pod. And hide it so they'll  
know it's his. I have no use of Wangler ending up in the hole."  
Chris paused for a moment.  
"What? Is it too much for you? Are you scared?"  
"No," Chris smirked. "I'd just like to know what the endgame is."  
"You'll know when it's over."

Everyone knew about the beef the Irish had with El Cid and therefore the Latinos. Ever since El Cid  
came back, he'd tried to get back in the tits-trade. But the Latinos weren't strong enough currently  
to enter into an open war.  
But what had Adebisi to do with this. As far as Chris knew, Adebisi and Ryan were sort of friends.  
Beecher, yet was a different story.

"He's done it." Ryan informed him. How he'd gotten that information in the infirmary sooner than him  
was a mystery to Toby.  
"I had no doubt about that. He's put too much effort in joining us, so far."  
"Why put him to the test then?"  
"I want him to think this was the test, so he'll get careless, because he thinks I trust him now."

**************************

"That's not the best therapy they could give him!"  
"I know, but the state won't pay for more."  
Toby and Dr. Nathan just stared at each other for a long moment.  
"I'll sue." Toby decided in an instant, though he realised that there was no real basis for that. After all  
prisoners hadn't very much moral high ground to tread upon. "Shit, I'll pay for it myself if necessary!"  
"Are you aware how expensive such a surgery is? We're talking about six figures..."  
"Whatever. Give him the treatment you'd give a patient who isn't in jail. I'll call my lawyer for the  
money transfer."

**************************

"Hey! Shit, Toby wake up!"  
Toby forcefully brushed the hand away. Eyes wide and wild, looking for the potential attacker.  
Innerly shaking with fear of the past evil that seemed to have transcended, with him from the  
world of his nightmares, to reality.  
Shit, Beecher was snarling at him like a cornered animal, ready to attack. His eyes were wide  
and didn't even seem to be directed at him at all. Chris moved a step away, taking his hands  
up in a show of good faith and put on a concerned face.  
"It's okay, Beecher. You had a nightmare. I just wanted to wake you up."  
Slowly his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and his pulse returned to normal. Schillinger hadn't  
magically materialized inside his pod, beckoned by his nightmares. It was just Keller. Suddenly  
Toby's eyes narrowed and he looked at Keller suspiciously.  
"Why would you do that?"  
The gears in Beecher's head seemed to be running again, analyzing his actions, calculating his  
next move. ~Sorry, Beecher. You won't figure me out. I'm too good.~  
"Well, you seemed to be pretty uncomfortable, dude." Chris shrugged, looking all good-naturedly.  
"What's it too you?" Beecher sounded hostile and bewildered.  
"Hey, a grumpy, badly rested podmate would just have been trouble."  
"If you tell anyone about anything you see or hear inside this pod, I'll kill you."

**************************

Ryan was feeling sick and dizzy. Not the chemo sick, where Miguel would hold him for hours while  
he was violently throwing up, in the semi-seclusion of the infirmary bathroom. This time it was  
because of the surgery. He hadn't been allowed to eat or drink. All he'd been allowed to was waiting.  
Soon he'd be transported off to Benchley Memorial for surgery.  
He'd fallen asleep from time to time. Moving in and out of consciousness.  
Miguel was mumbling Spanish stuff, pressing his crucifix to his lips. Toby had been there shortly,  
before he was send away by one of the hacks again. Looking tired and worried, asking him if he  
really wanted to die before El Cid. Cyril hadn't come. Ryan could vividly imagine him in the gym  
right now pounding into a boxing sack, waiting for someone, anyone to provoke him.

**************************

Chris found Beecher sitting in the library. Eyes narrowed. Deep in thought. Piles of books around  
him like castle walls. Very pensive. Kinda endearing. Such concentration.  
He'd already seen it in the evening in their pod. Beecher could get lost inside a book.  
He looked innocent like this. Like a honor student who's worst problem were bad grades. Under the  
pretence of leafing through a book himself, he leaned back and watched.  
Beecher hadn't even registered Chris' arrival, which was pretty unusual for him, who seemed to  
spin with tension usually. Only moments later, Chris saw the reason for the uncharacteristic relaxed  
attitude, when Said reentered the room. Chris hadn't paid much attention to Arif and Khan being  
here too. But, of course, the Muslim Connection. Nothing would happen to Beecher while Said and his  
acolytes were near. Even Schillinger didn't particularly care to start a fight with them.  
Chris' mouth pursed in distaste. Said was too close to Beecher. Not many people were. The secluded  
private club of »Beecher's friends«. What was it that had those two men become friends?  
Mutual respect? Gratitude for saving Keane? Probably just that they thought themselve so much better  
than anyone else here. All intellectual and high-moraled.  
~We'll see how much he thinks of you, once you beg me to fuck you, Beecher.~

Said and Toby were discussing details of the class action suit, Said had kicked off against the prison.  
Officially it was Said's baby, but Toby read all of Zellman's official documents and discussed them with  
Said. Only today he was pretty gone in his thoughts.  
Ryan was still in surgery and Toby didn't want to imagine it being unsuccessful. So he'd rather think  
about their plans, telling himself that soon Ryan would be able to plot them himself again.  
So far they'd kept all the parties busy so no one would see their next move coming. Adebisi would get  
out of the hole any day now, out for blood from the Latinos. Peter Schibetta still wanted Adebisi dead,  
not knowing that Ryan had been behind his dad's death too. And El Cid was much too focused, on getting  
his turf in the tits-trade back, to see anything except the schemes he himself was pulling. And El Cid  
wasn't a very subtle person. Shank attacks in the shower were as far as his imagination went.  
The precarious rope-dancing act, Ryan and him, had set up was going better than Toby could have dreamed it.  
But Toby didn't particularly believe in good things. And sending each player after the next one's hide, would  
only work out so far.  
Additionally to the regular trouble the Unit had a new Supervisor. Karl Metzger. Since Glynn'd suddenly  
decided that McManus and Whittlesey's relationship compromised their work, she'd been transferred to Unit B.  
A shame, really. They'd gotten along well, with her. Not only because she owed him, but also because she liked  
to make some money on the side. The new one acted like he pretty much had a stick up his ass. Toby still had  
to see whether he'd mess with their business.  
But something else, except his personal pessimistic perception of life in general, bugged him. Really bugged  
him. The Aryans and the Bikers. They had been awfully quiet lately. Doing their thing, sure. Still working the  
mailroom. And, yeah, they had killed Alexander Vogel, but...really...Toby was still waiting for the other shoe  
to drop. He had arranged precautions, with members of Ryan and Cyril's gang outside watching Gene and the children  
as well as his parents and Angus. (There was also someone checking on Tricia Ross, because Ross didn't like it  
anymore than Said's own people. He and Tricia weren't even officially involved and yet you could cut the tension  
among the Muslims with a knife.) No, Schillinger was cooking up something.  
Toby's eyes finally fell onto Chris and he was immediately irritated. And it wasn't just that he hadn't seen  
him enter. Was he staring at him? Did he think he needed backup? Toby was tempted to walk over and ask. And now  
that bastard had seen his look and dared to smirk at him.

***************************

"Where's Beecher off to?" Chris asked.  
"Visiting his children." Cyril answered.  
That was right. Beecher had an exwife and three children. The whole package: house, garden  
probably even a dog. Time to do some digging in Beecher's private stuff. Beecher had by now  
gained enough trust in him, that he was allowed to stay in their pod while he was away.  
Before that he had to spend the whole day outside. But he wasn't here to argue, he was here  
to get into Beecher's confidence.  
He found some new pictures of his children hidden inside his toiletries bag. He knew the story  
about Schillinger forcing him to rip up the pictures of his family. He knew all the stories of what  
had went down between Schillinger and Beecher. Some he knew from the general gossip  
around Em City. Here, very little went unnoticed. But some stories he knew from the man  
himself. When Schillinger had recruited him for Operation-Toby, he couldn't wait to tell him all  
the sordid details. If he'd had it, he'd probably also shown him a full color photo spread. There  
was really no limit to the sickness of Schillinger's mind. Everything considered he'd been lucky back  
then. But Chris was feeling no connection to Beecher because of shared experiences. He was a highly  
efficient trickster, that knew every trick in the book, while Toby was just the odd boy that didn't fit  
in. He could play gangster as much as he liked to, he'd always be the suburb, white-fence, rich boy.

************************** 

Father Mukada approached Miguel during his shift in the infirmary.  
"I'm going over to Benchley Memorial to visit the prisoners that are currently treated there, would you maybe, like  
to give Ryan O'Reily a message?"  
Of course he couldn't hide something like this from the Father. Miguel knew for sure, though, that  
Mukada would never break his confidence.  
"Could you..." Miguel's voice got even lower, barely a whisper. His eyes darted around the room checking  
if someone was listening. "Could you tell him that I love him?"  
Father Mukada smiled warmly.  
"Of course. I'll do that, Miguel."

***************************

He hadn't seen the two Latinos coming. He'd been careless, making his way to the visitors room  
to see his children. His own damn fault. And then Keller pops out of nowhere and offs them.  
And now they were in fucking lockdown again and he hadn't even been able to see his kids. He  
could imagine what Gene would make of that.  
He knew he was being unfair but nevertheless he gave Chris the silent treatment that evening.  
Just because they'd played chess a few times and Chris had actually made some reasonable remarks  
at »work« and proven he wasn't just cockiness and muscle didn't mean he was now Toby's knight  
in shining armor. Okay, maybe he had talked to him a few times when it hadn't been strictly necessary.  
That was just economical. He worked with the resources he got.

"No one is trying to challenge you, Beecher. Least of all me." Chris said, with all the trust and  
care, that had marks falling for him all over the country, shining in his eyes. Then he moved  
closer in a carefully contemplated move, and put one hand on Toby's forearm. "Really, you  
gotta start to trust me."  
Toby shrugged his hand off in a careless gesture that reminded Chris of an animal shaking of a  
fly.  
"Really, I have to?" He asked sweetly, with a stress on the word 'have'.  
~Really, Beecher, You've got some real control issues.~ Chris took on his best rueful expression.  
"Allright, take your time. I just want you to know, that you can trust me. If it ever comes down  
to it, I'll have your back."  
"We'll see." was Toby's curt answer. But in his eyes Chris could see starting doubt. Doubt about  
his first perception of Chris. Doubt about his whole untouchable policy.

**************************

Ryan returned to Em City with the demeanor of a king returning to his kingdom. No matter his still  
hairless skull, or his sickly pale complexion, he looked positively victorious when he came walking  
through the gate. A few nods to his fellow Irish, a few 'fuck you's to the sneering Aryans. He  
managed to keep up his lazy stroll until he reached Toby's and Chris' pod, where he violently threw  
up.  
"Fucking Chemo...Stop fussing, Beecher, I'm not going to die." He brushed Toby's hands off. "So what's  
new?"  
"Nothing much."  
"Did you do something stupid while I was gone?"  
"Like what? I don't do stupid things. Why do you think I ended up here?"  
They smirked at each other. Ryan felt a huge rush of relief, to be back and see that things where still  
the same. It was nothing to take for granted. Many others (actually Ryan could think of no one, except of  
course Cyril, who wouldn't have tried) would have ceized the opportunity to take over his position.  
"Thanks."  
"No problem, I'll let Chris clean up later."  
"I didn't mean that."  
"It's okay. At least I got some use for the outrageous amounts of money I'm no longer spending on Country  
Club memberships."  
Ryan laughed despite still leaning over the toilet, then he paused throwing a mischivous look to the door  
where Keller was standing guard with Cyril.  
"So...it's 'Chris' now?"  
"He's...useful."  
"I'm sure he is."  
"I don't even want to know what you're implying."  
Ryan chuckled, taking the glass of water Toby was offering.  
"Hey...How's Miguel?"  
"How do you think he is?" He grabbed Ryan under the arm, pulling him up. "I think I'm perfectly justified  
if I take you to the infirmary now."

"I think he's going to die." Toby announced, pushing Ryan into Mineo's arms. No one was going to doubt that  
diagnosis.

"O'Reily." Miguel's eyes lit up, the rest of his face staying impassive.  
"Alvarez." Ryan took full advantage of Miguel leading him over to his bed and leaned into him heavily.

**************************

They'd just talked the next delivery through. Smoothing the edges of their plan. With McManus  
deciding that he'd take another try at fighting the drugs in OZ, running tits had become a real  
pain in the ass. And there were a lot of satisfied costumers who wanted to be provided for. But  
Toby couldn't care less right now. Ryan was back from Benchley Memorial, getting his final chemo  
at the infirmary. For what it looked he was going to live. Toby didn't think his happiness and  
relief could have been spoiled even if he was going to spend the next month in the hole or sharing  
pod with Schillinger again.  
Ryan shook his head, laughing at Toby's newest proposition concerning the El Cid problem. "You got  
one dangerous mind." He said to Toby.  
"I always wondered what drove Schillinger to mess with you in the first place." Chris said.  
Toby let out a dry laugh. "Oh, you should have seen me when I got here. The most pathetic,  
clueless wimp you could imagine."

**************************

"Hey, Chris?"  
"Yeah?"  
Was it easier to trust in the darkness of their pods? Or was it necessity? He couldn't talk about it with  
Ryan. He wouldn't understand. And Said? He was a friend, but at the end of the day, he was an outsider. He  
didn't belong to them.  
"Chris, you heard about Richie Hanlon confessing to the murder of Alexander Vogel?"  
"Sure. Vogel was before I got here, right?"  
"Yes."  
"What about it?" Toby was obviously waiting for him to drag every word out of him.  
"He's innocent."  
Chris chortled. "Yeah, I'm aware of that. So is about anyone except McManus and I think even he has his  
doubts."  
"He's been transferred to deathrow today."  
"So?"  
"I want to get him out of that."  
"Is he a friend of yours?"  
Chris seemed to be genuinely perplexed. Maybe Toby shouldn't have told him...but sometimes he just  
needed someone to bounce his thoughts off on.  
"No." He sighed.  
Toby sounded like a dissappointed kindergarden teacher. Chris could just imagine his expression. A smile  
spread over his face.  
"So, you want to get back at Schillinger."  
"No, Chris!" Toby said as if it was obvious. "It would be the right thing to do!"  
Now he'd lost Chris entirely. Doing »the right thing« was a concept Chris was completely unfamiliar with.  
Toby didn't even know Hanlon.  
Toby could tell by Chris' silence that he had as much understanding for it as Ryan would have had.  
"Stop sighing all accusatory, Toby. I totally get it. Fighting the bad, protecting the weak and innocent.  
You're the hero Oz deserves, but not the hero it needs."  
"Fuck you." Toby answered, yet not without grudging amusement. "If I wanted to get laughed at, I could  
have told Ryan."  
"Hey, just do your thing. If you think you have to do it, our approval shouldn't matter."

**************************

"Dammit! Lockdown! Lockdown!"  
Chris saw McManus' furious face, before he was shoved towards his pod by a hack, while the SORT team  
stormed in.  
From his pod he watched a stretcher with a body being taken out. Blood seeping through the sheet they'd  
put over it. When one of the paramedics stumbled, an arm slid out under the sheet. Chris recognized the  
El Norte tattoo.  
He saw Toby and Ryan locking eyes over the length of the unit.  
Adebisi would probably always think it had been his own idea.


	6. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of where Toby and Chris finally get together.   
> Toby's not only busy figuring out where he stands with Chris, but also has deal with some other matters close to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been busy with exams and writer's block, so I decided to split chapter six into two parts and post the half I'm already done with.

After El Cid's demise, Miguel had stepped out of the shadows, retaking his place as the leader of the, by  
now completely disassembled and structureless, Latinos, seemingly by himself, when he was nothing more  
than an extension of Ryan and Toby. (Thankfully, Ryan and Miguel had kept their relationship as secret as if  
they were the CIA.). So, with the Italians, the Homeboys, the Irish and the Latinos, there were now officially  
four parties involved in the tits-trade. And Toby and Ryan had managed to secure half of it without anyone  
noticing.

**************************

"We could do some wrestling." Chris suggested.  
"Think there's something you can teach me?" Toby asked with a teasing smile.  
"Only one way to find out." Chris answered with a smirk.  
The atmosphere between them had become more and more relaxed. Toby was relying on him  
now, in business. After the rather hostile showing the ropes he'd gotten in the beginning, he  
was now an accepted member of the inner circle, being fully involved in the current plans and  
schemes. He and Ryan had found each other to be unexpectedly good company. Great minds think alike.  
Though he prefered the company of Toby, be it easy banter like this, or the kind of serious  
conversations, he'd found to be typical of Toby. It gave him a thrill to know, Toby trusted him  
this much. The closer he got, the closer he still wanted to get, and it wasn't just looking forward  
to fucking Toby.  
He threw Toby to the mat, knocking the wind out of him. Toby recuperated fast, giving Chris a  
challenging smile, before unexpectedly kicking his legs of under him, sending him to the mat  
too. Toby quickly sat down on his chest, pinning his arms to the floor.  
"So.." he wiggled his brows at Chris, with a smirk. "What exactly was it you wanted to teach me?"  
Wow, a lot of things, Chris didn't even know where to start. He bucked up under Toby, breaking  
his balance, effectively toppling him of him, reversing their position. He leaned in close to Toby,  
lowering his voice suggestively.  
"I don't know, what would you like me to?"  
"Well, if it isn't my old pal, Bitchboy," a snide voice interrupted them.  
Chris let go of Toby's hands immediately and got of him. Toby nothing but propped himself up  
on his ellbows. Not seeing the need to face Schillinger standing. Lazily he turned his head in the  
Aryans direction.  
"Are we feeling a little jealous today, Vern? Maybe you should tell your little sidekicks, that you  
actually liked getting fucked up the ass. I'm sure they'd be only too willing to do this for you."  
"Feeling a little overconfident today, huh?" Schillinger retorted. "Just because you've learned a few  
new moves doesn't mean you're the new He-man."  
Toby seemed to be contemplating that for a moment, before answering. "Could it be, that you're somewhat  
of a sore loser?"  
That moment Cyril entered the gym, "Ah, fuck. Schillinger," he said, making a retching noise. "There goes  
my working-out mood. Don't wanna stare at your ugly mug the whole time." He made a halfturn and nearly ran  
into the Italians who'd also entered the gym.  
Peter Schibetta had watched the continuing exchange of pleasantries between Toby and Schillinger with  
amusement.  
"Careful, Schillinger," he yelled over to him, "Or Beecher is going to make you his prag!"  
The Italians burst out laughing.  
Cyril only added, "Nah, Toby's got taste."

**************************

"What's the matter, hon?" Shirley called over to Richie, who's just let out of his cell.  
"I don't know. They say I have a visitor."

Richie didn't know the man, who was sitting there in an expensive looking suit and brown suede shoes.  
"Mr. Hanlon?" The man raised his eyes from the papers he was looking at.  
Richie didn't sit down on the chair on the other side of the table.  
"Who are you?"  
"My law firm will be taking your case over. I'm Harrison Beecher and this has to stay between the two  
of us. I need you to write down the names of the persons threatening you."  
"Beecher...?" Hanlon was still processing the first part. "Do you have any connection to Tobias Beecher?"  
"That is of no concern here. I'm here to talk about your case. The names, please."  
"They will kill me if I do...and why would Beecher?...I have no connection to him...He doesn't owe me  
anything."  
"I was told to assure you that no harm will come to you through anything you say in this room. My aim is  
solely to serve justice."

"Richie! What happened? You've been gone forever." Shirley exclaimed.  
"I have no idea."

***************************

McManus had just only arrived at work, when he already got a bad feeling. Upon entering Em City he was  
presented with a combination, that always meant trouble, lined up along the railing upstairs, looking  
down at him, good-naturedly.  
They smiled down at what, McManus by now mentally refered to as their kingdom, contented like they'd  
specifically chosen to be here.  
One after another they greeted him, when he made his way up the stairs.  
"Good morning." Nod. Beecher.  
"McManus." Smirk. Chris Keller.  
"Yo, McManus." Sleepy eyed. Cyril O'Reily.  
"And a beautiful day to you!" Wink. Ryan O'Reily.  
This perpetuum mobile of crime obscured it good, but just because they went along their business with a  
little bit more finesse and manners, didn't mean they weren't running just as much drugs as the rest of the  
thugs.

***************************

Toby was brushing his teeth, his eyes taking in the reflection of the half-finished game of chess in the  
mirror.  
It was crazy, but letting go felt good. He didn't want to have to be in control all the time. Being  
with Chris was fun. And it was uncomplicated. He could hang out with Ryan and Cyril too, but with Ryan  
there was never resting, there was always plotting.  
With Chris he could just joke around silly and relax. He had needed that. He had needed it so much. Since  
he'd decided to take his life back, he hadn't had time to pause and dwell on his decisions. He hadn't had  
time for emotions like morality or guilt. That was of course a very short-sighted approach to it.  
However he put it, he'd become one of the worst of the worst inside here. There would be no absolution  
because of the circumstances. So far he'd made sure none of his deeds could be pinned on him, so there would  
be no interference with his parole. But he would always know what he'd done.

**************************

"Fucking Adebisi! Is he trying to take over the Italian turf?" Cyril shot a dark look towards the table  
the Homeboys were sitting.  
"Schibetta tried to whack him first." Chris clarified between two bites. "Two against one." He held up  
two fingers.  
"We all knew it was coming." Ryan shrugged. "The Italians will send someone new in. And we will work with  
him."  
Toby only nodded and remained silent for the rest of dinner.

**************************

Chris got up, leaning against the bedframe, watching Toby try to read.  
"What's going on in that head of yours?" Chris asked, making a circular motion in direction of Toby's head.  
"Nothing."  
Monosyllabic answers were never a good sign with Toby. Or Bisyllabic in that case, but the rule applied in  
either case.  
"Nothing? You haven't said a word since dinner."  
"Thinking."  
"'Bout what?"  
"Decisions."

**************************

"What's all this uproar about?" Chris asked Ryan.  
"Remember, three days ago when Peter Schibetta was raped by Adebisi?"  
"How could I have missed that? He was send to the looney-bin."  
"Exactly. Well, Beecher shanked Adebisi." Ryan stated matter of factly. "I really wish he would  
tell me, before he pulls stunts like that. Then I could at least get myself an umbrella before the  
whole shitstorm comes down."  
"Why the fuck did he do that?!" Chris asked flabbergasted. He had an idea, but it seemed unlikely given  
what kind of people at what a kind of place they were.  
"Oh, his no-rape policy. Unlike the hacks, he takes it pretty seriously. At least inside Em City your  
ass belongs to yourself."  
"Fuck!" Chris stated, both astounded and impressed. Not so unlikely after all.  
"Or not."

**************************

"Fuck you, Beecher!" Ryan yelled slamming the door to Toby's pod. Chris is at the door moments later.  
"Stay out of this, Keller!"  
Chris throws a questioning look towards Toby, but he only nods.  
"Beecher! Seriously, how often?" Ryan raises his hands as if in prayer. "How often are we going to  
have this talk?! Stop going on this vigilante rampages! And if you have to, do it like me! Safe, clean  
and secret. Do you know how many deaths I've caused in here? Probably half overall. Do you know how many  
they can pin on me? Zero. Get yourself a new hobby or learn how to play this right, because I sure as hell  
won't be cleaning up after you for much longer!"  
"Weren't you the one who said, we need to back up our words with a little more than air?"  
"Not if the words were stupid in the first place! But it's too late now isn't it."

***************************

"Did you need to do that?"  
Chris looked very serious, his eyes lacking the usual playful spark he had even during work.  
"The Italians owe us now." Toby answered shortly.  
"But that's not why you did it."  
His voice sounded soft, nothing like the hysterics he'd gotten from Ryan ealier.  
"Does it help, to give you the feeling your presence here isn't meaningless?"  
"Yes. Yes, it does."  
Relief washed over Toby's voice. Chris tried to categorize the emotion and to put it in his »Toby:  
action and reaction«-box. He knew what most people wanted. Attention. Love. Respect. Trust.  
Or more important, the chance to trust. Chris had known women like Toby. Insecure and hurt to  
the point they didn't even know what they wanted any longer.  
But then again, Toby did things he absolutely couldn't understand, but liked nevertheless.

**************************

Metzger found an envelope in his mail box containing several photos displaying him attenting various white  
enpowerment events.  
»It would be to everyone's benefit if truth was served in the Richard Hanlon case.«, the letter read.

***************************

"Adebisi's in coma. They say he's going to die." Chris told Toby.  
Huge eyes. A mouth gasping for air and words.  
"No. That's...The wound wasn't that..."  
"Complications. It happens."  
"Oh god." Toby crouched on the floor, putting his face in his palms.  
"Hey, I don't think the Homeboys will take retaliation that serious. Wangler is happy enough to take  
over." Okay, that obviously wasn't it. Chris crouched down beside Toby, rubbing his shoulders. "It's not  
like..." Oh. "You killed before, right? I mean with your own hands...right?" No. Shit. "Hey, come on. Breathe.  
It's okay. This is not the real world. We're as far from civilisation as could be. We're all animals here."  
He could break him right now, right here. Make it all so much worse. Even without losing Toby's trust. And the  
beautiful thing about it was, Toby would recover from it. He came crashing down, ever so often. But he always  
recuperated from it. It was something Chris didn't see every day and he was looking forward to seeing what  
he'd look like when he broke him.

***************************

He didn't need any new friends. He had Ryan, Rebadow and to some degree Cyril. Damn, even Miguel  
these days. And if he wanted to have some sophisticated talk, he could always spend time with Said.  
So, okay, Chris could be trusted. And yeah, he'd made himself useful working for them.  
But that should be it.  
Why did he now crave this guys company. Fuck, had he seriously started to think in terms of craving?!  
"Hey, Toby." Chris walked into their pod and involuntarily, Toby felt his face light up with smile.  
"Hey, Chris."

**************************

"Hey, you heard the news? Richie Hanlon is back from deathrow!" Poet announced, loudly.  
"Some luck!" Ryan whistled. "Maybe he's Irish."  
"Richie Hanlon?" Stanislofsky, the new guy from Russia, asked. "Isn't that the man, who killed Alexander  
Vogel?"  
"That's right," Busmalis leaned closer, with an air of confidentiality, "but everyone knows it was the  
Aryans that killed him."

**************************

He wanted Toby. He really did now. It was taking too long. They should have been together already.  
Chris wasn't used to having to fight that hard for someone. And admitantly he was starting to get a  
little desperate.  
Friends was good. But friends wasn't what he'd been aiming for.

**************************

Again, he heard Toby wake up at night. There was hardly a night that went without it. Chris  
had already gotten up, leaning against the upper bunk, looking at the mess in front of him with  
concern. ~You're truly fucked up, Toby.~ To him, Toby was nothing but scar tissue. First Kathy  
Rockwell. Then whatever Schillinger had done to him. Now, all the things he had to do to stay alive  
here, to keep his position. It all had left deep scars on Toby's soul. The more he learned  
the stronger he felt that Toby shouldn't have to suffer like this.  
He'd thought he'd got Toby figured out, when he first met him. But with time, he realised,  
that his first perceptions of Toby had been nothing but the his shallow expectations,  
reflecting off him. Toby was nothing he'd expected. There was a false layer of acts and then  
there was another false layer underneath and underneath. Very little of the Tobias Beecher  
people knew and feared by now, was real. But the closer he got, the more glimpses he could  
catch of him, fleeting like words written in sand. The way he acted around Ryan and Cyril, when  
they were on their own. The way he talked about his family, now that he'd accepted Chris inside  
the small circle of the persons he trusted. The way Chris could see him, working from the shadows  
to help inmates, he took pity on, without anyone knowing that he'd been behind it or without  
them knowing that he'd done it with something other than his own benefit in mind.  
"Talk to me." Chris was rubbing Toby's neck, sweat-soaked strands of hair sticking to it.  
"No, leave me alone." Toby groaned, exhausted.  
"I can't listen to this night after night. Let me help.", he urged. And he really couldn't, could he?  
"What's there to help? I'm weak and pathetic and can't deal with my own shit."  
"I know I'm not Ryan, but there's gotta be something I can do." His hand was still moving over  
Toby's neck, his thumb rubbing small circles on Toby's skin, he unconsciously leaned into the  
touch.  
"I didn't have to tell Ryan. He knew. And I don't think I can tell it." Toby stared down at his hands,  
with a tired moan. Chris put his arms around him, pulling him close.  
"Alright, for now. Go back to sleep. But if you someday'll feel like telling me. I'll listen."  
Toby looked at him, with those sad, exhausted eyes, grateful for both the respite and the willingness  
to help.  
He was beautiful, even with all those scars, both the visible and the invisible. Or maybe because  
of the scars. He hadn't seen it immediately. Though he couldn't comprehend any longer how  
that had been possible. Toby would always be beautiful. But even so...There shouldn't be all  
those scars. Well, the least he could promise, was that he'd be the only one to leave scars on  
him from now on. He would mark him. Mark him as his own.

**************************

Ryan and Toby were leaning casually against the railing discussing business and gazing over  
their kingdom with indifference, while Cyril stood a little further apart, scrutinizing their  
surrounding for any possible threats.  
Though their faces betrayed nothing, they weren't discussing business today.  
"What are you doing, Beecher?" his voice was exceptionally gentle, for Ryan, who usually was  
not known for mincing matters.  
"I don't know." Toby said with a barely perceptible smile. "I really don't know."  
"Are you sure you want to go back there?"  
"It's not the same, not even remotely." Toby answered, only his eyes betraying the anger his voice  
didn't carry.  
"If you have to." Ryan shook his head, smiling wrily. "Just try to keep in private, like Miguel and  
me. - I guess you're minds made up?"  
"Uh-uh. I'm not even remotely sure. Can I?...Can I?" Toby sounded desperately eager and yet scared to  
death. "It's the first good thing that has happened to me in so long." Then he added, in not more than  
a whisper. "If this goes badly, I don't know what I'll turn into."  
"If he hurts you, he's dead." Ryan said matter-of-factly, then he added with a smile. "If you really  
want him, just go for it. You have to grab every bit of happiness you can, here."

**************************

"I love you."  
"I love you, Toby."

The noise of dozens of washers, going round and round. The smell of laundry detergent and starch.  
And the unitary vomit-green of the laundry baskets.

Shit, that kiss. Now Toby understood why there were so many songs about kissing someone.  
But there probably wasn't one, that went: 'I kissed that guy, and now I feel like I have to kill  
him to feel in control again'.  
And now that fucking cocksucker was in the hole. And he was able to spend all night, going  
crazy thinking about it.  
Chris' fucking booze was still hidden there in the role of toiletpaper. But it wasn't as tempting for  
Toby as one would have thought. He was running tits now, after all. Though he never kept any  
of the stuff in his pod, he could have all the heroin or cocaine he wanted. But he was over that.  
The day he had cut that damn swastika out of his buttocks, without the desirable numb of drugs  
or booze, cursing himself and Schillinger, tears of pain running down his cheeks, he had decided:  
Never again.  
So instead of the craving for drugs, he now felt the desire to get fucked by a man, how fucked  
up was that?

**************************

"Shit, did you hear the latest news?" Poet told Wangler, laughing astonished. "Beecher was  
seen making out with Keller!"  
"No shit?!"  
"No shit! Looks like Beecher's back to being a prag."

"That's just pathetic." Guerra spit on floor. "We shouldn't be working with them."  
"The guy's loco. Always been. This doesn't change shit, so far. We'll see how it goes." Miguel  
answered trying to sound nonchalantly. He didn't need his position compromised, with everyone  
knowing that the Latinos were more or less Ryan's and Toby's bitches. He especially, in more  
than one way.

"Guess what!" Whittlesey announced amused, when she walked into the break room of the COs.  
"What?" Sister Pete answered good-naturedly with one raised eyebrow.  
"Seems Beecher and Keller are getting it on with each other."  
"Well..." McManus started at a loss for words.  
"Always knew that one was a pansy." Howell shrugged dismissively. "A shame about Keller,  
though." she laughed dirtily.  
"I can't say I'm surprised." Sister Pete said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment!!!


	7. The End of the Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Toby are officially together, whatever that means for them. Or more precise whatever that means to all the others. Toby has to defend the position he gave so much to take.
> 
> And a special treat for all the fans of Ryan/Miguel: A backflash to them getting together! You better like it! ╰(◣﹏◢)╯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all a huge ﾟ☆,｡･:*:･ﾟ★o(´▽｀*)/♪Thanks♪＼(*´▽｀)oﾟ★,｡･:*:･☆ﾟto everyone who left a comment (or multiple^^) or kudos!!!!
> 
> Oh god! This chapter has gotten so long. It was like the neverending story, it just kept going and going. Everytime I thought I was finished something new came to mind.  
> I could cut it into two again, but I fear then it's going to get larger again.  
> Originally when I started this story chapter 4-7 were one chapter, but it got out of control once I started posting the story. ^^° It's a good thing, I guess.  
> I finally want to get to the storyline of season 3!

Pancamo entered the gym while Miguel was dunking a few balls before breakfast. He just leaned against  
the wall and watched until Miguel stopped and walked over to him.  
Miguel looked at him questioningly.  
"Heard the news I take it?"  
"Hard to miss." Miguel answered warily.  
"We won't work with no pansy," Pancamo spit on the floor, "It's one thing to pay them for intel or  
shit, but we won't work beside them. Mr. Nappa said he's out. Are you in?"  
Miguel heard the unspoken 'or you'll be out too' loud and clear.  
"Beecher got friends."  
"Are you one of them?"  
"Shit man, I ain't no ones bitch!"  
"Good, then we're on the same page."  
"What about O'Reily?"  
"He's a clever boy, he'll know when to cut his losses. O'Reily's friendships never lasted one second  
longer than was profitable for him."  
Miguel knew Ryan good enough for knowing this to be true, with a few exceptions. But to tell Pancamo  
would only weaken Ryan in his view. So he just looked at Pancamo resolved and asked,  
"What do we do?"

**************************

"Said?" Toby knocked at the pod door, despite it being open. "Do you have a minute. That is, if you  
are still willing to be seen with me in public.  
Said gave him a rueful, yet amused smile.  
"And outcast my only brother in defiant love?" He joked. "I might not approve of the path you've  
chosen, but I'm not to judge you either. What is it you wanted to talk about?"  
"The path you might not approve of." Toby replied equally rueful.  
"Come in."  
Toby had barely settled on the lower bunk, when the door was pushed open again.  
"Get out!" Ryan's face was tense, not making the effort to hide his anger, "Or even better. Stay," he  
turned to Said, "You leave us."  
Said didn't argue that it was his pod, but only raised an eyebrow at Ryan and left.  
"You!" Ryan pointed an accusing finger at Toby, "Guess what! People don't like you being gay. Big surprise."  
"People already didn't like me before that."  
"I just got a message from Miguel. The Italians are turning against us. They want Miguel in on it. And I don't  
have to tell you that they've got the Homeboys too."  
Toby wanted to hug Ryan for the seemingly natural use of 'us'.  
"Damn, Nappa is sure working fast. Seems they have a short memory when it comes to their own."  
"Yeah, seems 'gay' tops 'rape'."  
"What did Miguel answer?"  
"He's in."  
"Yeah, that should benefit us for now," Toby went pensive, "I guess we have to take out Nappa. Maybe you  
should switch sides too, for now."  
"No, if I go now, I'll take half our men with me. It would weaken you too much. If we want to have any  
chance at all, we have to stick this out now, for better or worse."

**************************

They were walking into the cafeteria together. Cyril hanging back behind them, like a dark cloud, waiting to  
rain down shit on anyone who was stupid enough to make a wrong move.  
Cyril offered to get breakfast for him, but Toby knew that he'd have to face the Italians, so he got in  
line, forcing his body to stand tall. When it was his turn, the guy who was currently serving, Marco or  
something, reached out to pull the tray out of Toby's reach. Toby only shook his head, softly.  
"You don't want to be doing this."  
The tray remained where it was. Toby picked it up and walked on.  
Schillinger walked past them. He leaned over to Ryan.  
"Dumb move, O'Reily."  
To Toby's surprise he wasn't adressed in any form. But during breakfast, Toby saw him smiling over his  
whole face, happily.

**************************

It was funny how many issues were arising due to all this. Even when Toby wasn't even sure it was going  
to go anywhere with him and Chris. Shit, right now, Chris wasn't even here. Well, Toby would have switched  
places with him right this second. At the Hole he'd at least get a little peace of mind.

**************************

Chris was back. The lot of Em City greeted him with hooting and humming of the Wedding March. Good  
enough. The real question was what state would await him when he reached his pod.  
Nothing as it turned out. The pod was empty. He went out again, checking Toby's usual spaces. He  
finally spotted him, walking leisurely with Said.  
Toby hadn't drunken any of the moonshine. He was just as fresh and sparkling as he'd left him. That  
meant the game was still on. Whatever that meant for either of them, Chris was feeling a thrill  
going through his body.  
He walked closer.  
"Hey, Toby."

**************************

"You haven't promised too much, Chris. I have to say I'm impressed. I hadn't thought you could make  
Beecher forget himself that much." Schillinger told him, chuckling.  
"Yeah, once a prag, always a prag." Robson chimed in. "I bet that fucking pansy can't wait to suck  
your dick."  
"What the hell do you know?!" Chris retorted, catching himself again, falling back into his usually  
carefree demeanor. "I told you, Vern, there's no one I can't work."

**************************

"How you've been doing?" Chris asked rubbing Toby's shoulder, looking concerned.  
"Nothing I hadn't been expecting." Toby wondered why he didn't just tell Chris about the thing with  
the Italians. Still not fully trusting Chris, huh? his conscience asked gleefully. Is there really  
anyone you can trust at the bottom line? the sardonic reply was. He met Chris' eyes again, making his  
voice sound light. "How about you? Already regretting it?"  
"I knew what I was getting myself into." Chris answered with a grin so self-assured, as if Toby'd just  
asked him, if he could handle the crust on his bread.  
Toby leaned forward hesitantly. They where in their pod, but given the glasswalls, the privacy  
was more ideationally. Chris took his cue without a moment of hesitation, in one fluid motion.  
Yeah, Toby thought as Chris bit his lip, fuck the Italians and fuck Ryan. This had been a wonderful  
idea.

**************************

Lunch went mostly as usual. At least after Cyril had sent the first one to make a stupid comment  
flying to the floor.  
Toby felt awkward nevertheless. He was used to being the center of attention by now, but he didn't  
like it. Especially because now it felt so much like before.  
Back was the formerly familiar urge to hunch his shoulders and turn his eyes to the floor. But he  
refused to feel ashamed about something that felt so good, just because of the arbitrary and out-dated  
rules made by his fellow prisoners.  
He'd spent too much time staring at the floor, too much time on his knees.  
At one point there must have been someone to make those rules in the first place. Now, Toby would  
give them a new set of rules.  
He leaned over to where Chris was sitting beside him and pulled him in a kiss. First, Chris was  
startled but then he moved into his touch.  
And there was it the familiar whistling, the catcalls. Slowly he let go of Chris' face and turned around.  
His eyes moving over every single table. Challenging them. With each table, silence slowly returned to the  
cafeteria.  
"So, is here anyone who wants to contribute something? It's a one-time offer, if you have anything to  
say, say it now. You maybe, Vern?" Toby announced, his voice pronounced and clear.  
Schillinger had been looking like the cat waiting to hop into the cream, ever since he'd walked into the  
cafeteria, but Toby's sudden offer seemed to take some of his momentum.  
"Why, Toby, if I'd known, you've missed my dick that much, I could have come by from time to time, for old  
times sake."  
Toby let out a chuckle, both to have time to come up with an response, and because Schillinger was still so  
embarrasingly predictable.  
"Vern baby, if I'd have missed your dick, it would be standing in my pod in a jar."  
And the crowd was all his again.

**************************

"The Italians were awfully quiet during lunch." Toby stated.  
"Nappa isn't stupid, he wants to take you out nice and quiet and not cause a full blown war." Ryan  
answered. "You've told lover-boy already?"  
"Hasn't been necessary yet." Toby revealed, guiltily.

**************************

"Why don't we take him out? We'll have cred with the Italians afterwards!"  
"Shut up, Chico." Miguel answered, impatiently.  
"So what? We wait. We always wait!"  
"You want to run into an Irish shank you go ahead. But don't do it in the name of El Norte. We can't  
be associated with someone that stupid."  
Guerra growled, but stayed silent otherwise.

**************************

"Guerra'll make a great scapegoat," Ryan told Miguel, staring out of their pod at night, "if we actually  
need someone to make a failed attempt on Toby's life."  
"I can't just kill one of my men."  
"They're not your men. You can't be fool enough to think they're your friends. Not after everything with  
El Cid."  
"I swore an oath when I went into El Norte."  
"And you already broke it with El Cid, didn't you? You're as much El Norte as I am." Ryan turned around  
to Miguel slowly getting impatient, "It's not like I ask you to cut his throat in broad daylight. No one  
will ever know."  
"Would you sacrifice your own men that easily too?"  
"Not if they don't give me a reason. Look, Miguel, there are people I care about and then there are people  
I don't give a shit about. You happen to belong to those I care about. Isn't that enough?"  
Miguel looked at him long and hard for a moment, "Yes, it is."  
"Good." Ryan replied a little sullenly.  
Ryan understood what Toby was doing. Had understood it before Toby even knew what he was doing. Ryan  
had had his very own identity crisis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn't really consider the Latino as attractive. Sure he considered guys in terms of attractiveness, in  
comparison to his own looks and their chances with the ladies. He knew Alvarez was known as the pretty one.  
But he didn't think Alvarez was particularily exceptional. And come on! The guy cut his own face. That's just  
particularily crazy in his books.  
But Toby had decided they would take this particular, abandoned sheep into their arch.

~~~~

Alvarez had just dumped his stuff in Ryan's pod.  
"Look, charity case. As you might have guessed I don't singularly thrive on the high that supposedly comes  
from helping the helpless. I couldn't care less if El Cid sticks you on a pole in front of his pod, if I  
wasn't expecting to benefit from it later."  
"I guessed that much."  
"Good."

~~~~

"I need a place to stash some of my product."  
"In the infirmary?"  
"Exactly."  
"So I'm going down for it, if it's found?"  
"Exactly."  
"There's some kind of supply room/closet over there."  
They stood in the crammed room, looking around.  
"Comfy enough, boss man?"  
Alvarez didn't look particularly in awe, which pissed Ryan off a little. For someone who'd come  
running to them, short of in tears, not even three weeks ago, he'd recuperated pretty damn fast.

~~~~

"You again, O'Reily?" Dr. Nathan leaned against her desk, looking amused, when Ryan entered the  
infirmary.  
"Yes, I got a nervous stomach."  
"Uh-huh."  
"Should I wheel you to your bed, or do you think you can manage." Alvarez asked, showing up beside  
him.  
Ryan sauntered over to one of the empty beds.  
"You really think, you're getting in her pants?"  
"Sure." Ryan answers, pointing at his body.  
"Yeah, sure. Have you even worked out once in your life?"  
"No need to. I'm already perfect."

~~~~

"I thought you're married?"  
"So?"  
"What does your wife say to you hitting on the doctor?"  
"Does it make a difference, given where we are?"  
"Probably not."  
"Look Alvarez, I don't know if you're waiting for me to ask you something about yourself, or if you're  
just that bored, but I didn't book the whole soul shower package. So shut up."  
"What's your problem?"  
"Didn't I make that obvious just now?"  
"So you don't want to talk about your feelings? I actually thought we were just going to shoot the shit,  
but if it's all emotional with you, well then let's talk about how you are intending to get rid of El Cid.  
The sooner he's gone the sooner you're rid of me."  
~I'd know a way to get rid of you even sooner~, Ryan thought. It wasn't that he had a personal problem with  
Alvarez, but he felt sorely diminished in his personal space and the fact that Alvarez seemed to think they  
were friends now and always had a look like he was laughing at him, didn't make him any more amicable.

~~~~

Ryan walked past him when he left Sister Pete's office.  
"Hey, what are you doing at Sister Pete's? Helping out with the computers?" Ryan laughed.  
"I'm in therapy." Miguel answered, taciturn.  
"What? You're an addict or something?"  
That would have been the moment to lie and jump on the solution Ryan offered. But what was the point about  
trying to salvage what's left of his reputation? No one in here had anything to be proud of. And neither  
Toby nor Ryan were known to have a great liking for drug-addiction among their followers.  
"I've got depression and panic-attacks. I'm on medication." He answered simply.  
"Seriously? That's pathetic."  
The reaction Miguel had expected. Being in therapy was obviously only okay, if you're Tobias Beecher. But  
compared to the times when Miguel had considered whether he should get himself a rope, every morning, he  
preferred his current situation.  
"You know what's pathetic, O'Reily? Not getting help, when you need it."

~~~~

A nutcase like Alvarez was a liability. But Alvarez had been a liability to begin with. And Ryan knew  
Toby would agree with Alvarez. The last thing he needed was Beecher and Alvarez fraternizing even more over  
how much they had in common.  
Even though, Ryan had to concede that Alvarez had stood his ground. Someone like that was harder to blackmail,  
harder to turn against you. Both traits Ryan highly appreciated in an employee. Alvarez was able to judge a  
situation and cut his losses short.

~~~~

"Hey Michael! You're sucking O'Reily's dick now?" El Cid asked when he entered the shower, accompanied by  
Guerra and Vasquez.  
Since Toby had decided that it was more economical if Ryan and Miguel showered together since someone had  
to look after Miguel and they were sharing pod anyway, Ryan had to spent even more quality time with him.  
To Ryan's annoyance Alvarez stayed quiet and looked actually somewhat ashamed. Yeah, but when they were  
alone, he was running his mouth.  
"Don't jump to conclusions based on your and Guerra's bedtime activities, Raoul." Ryan entered the conversation,  
without interrupting his shave.

Miguel was very silent when they returned to their pod.  
"I appreciate what you guys do for me."  
"Thank Beecher, not me."  
"Right now I'm thanking you."

~~~~

"Shake down! Shake down!"  
Miguel pulled out a shank slashing it across Ryan's forearm. Ryan fell to the ground, holding his arm.  
"Shit! Ahhh!"  
"Fuck, get him to the ambulance." Mineo yelled over to his collegues.  
The hacks took Ryan to the ambulance, while Miguel was dragged to the Hole.

When he got out three days later, they were both taken to McManus.  
"What's the matter with you two? You were getting along so well."  
"What do you mean?" Ryan asked.  
"Alvarez attacking you with a shank? Ring a bell?"  
"Alvarez didn't attack me."  
"No, I didn't."  
"Officer Mineo saw you."  
"I'm sure he saw me bleeding, but I doubt he saw it happen. Alvarez was just trying to aid me, after I was attacked."  
"Seriously?"  
"Ask Mineo, I doubt he'd take an oath on it."

They were both let go again.  
"That was quick thinking." Ryan commended.  
"Thanks. The stash's safe then?"  
"Yep, and since our dear collegues weren't as lucky as we were, we're for now officially the only one's running tits."

~~~~

Alvarez was alone in the infirmary, when Ryan entered. He didn't take notice of Ryan, probably because of the  
radio on Gloria's desk being turned on. He was dancing around the room, while stashing medical supplies.  
Finally he turned around.  
"Where you dancing?!" Ryan asked incredulous. Before he had the chance to make appropriately fun of him, Alvarez  
turned the tables.  
"Why were you watching?!" Miguel asked even more incredulous.  
"I...wasn't," Ryan answered, painfully out of rhetorics.  
"Yes, you were!" Miguel laughed, not looking like he was going to stop anytime soon.  
Ryan leaned down to the shorter man. Miguel continued to laugh, through the first part of the kiss.

~~~~

It was nice how neither of them mentioned the kiss with any word, stubbornly ingoring it. They moved around each  
other in their pod with the usual ease and even exchanged some words about trivial matters like toothpaste. All in  
all very innocent.

~~~~

Oh yeah. That's good. Hah, fuck! Ryan's hand moved inside his pants in the darkness of the night. The hand no longer  
his own, but Dr. Nathans. Yeah, he could hear her pants. Hands moving down his body. Hmm. He could taste her. Just like  
before. No, he'd never kissed her. But the memory made him shudder. His hands buried in short hair. Wait, SHORT hair?  
But he was already past the point of caring. The kiss intensifying in his imagination. The thought of what more could  
be there made him come hard.  
Ryan let out a deep breath, wiping his hand on a towel. Damn, prison was getting to him. It was a bad sign, when girls  
were suddenly turning to guys while wanking. Probably because they were both Latino, that's why his mind had been able  
to mix them up. His excuses used to be better, but he would work with what he got. Or more precisely, he wouldn't do  
just that.

~~~~

"Why is it, you always look this fucking entertained when you look at me?" Ryan asked, feeling irritated, frustrated  
and not inconsiderably curious.  
Miguel looked confused for a second, then laughed.  
"It's just, you've got a lot less swag if one gets to know you."

~~~~

When Ryan entered the infirmary there was no one except Miguel.  
"Why the fuck do they leave you here alone?" Ryan asked. While it was really just perfect for delivering drugs,  
right now Ryan would have taken anyone's presence over being alone with Alvarez.  
"Unlike you I'm considered responsible."  
"Best joke I heard today."  
Miguel turned back to cleaning and Ryan really had to wonder if he was showing his backside on purpose, leaning  
down to shrub the floor under the beds.  
Miguel turned around, exasperated, after a while.  
"Are you here for a special purpose? Or any purpose at all?"  
Ryan paused for a moment.  
"Yeah, sure. Beecher wanted me to check up on you. Were you dancing again?" Ryan couldn't help but tease.  
"You'd have liked to see that, huh?" Miguel walked past him, putting away mop and bucket. "Anything else?" he  
added.  
"Not really."  
"Cool."  
"Yeah."

They fucked on Dr. Nathan's desk.

~~~~

"Alvarez, come on!" Ryan pulled him towards the closet.  
"Whoa, O'Reily. Let's take a deep breath and think for a second. I don't..."  
"We can't repeat this!" Ryan interrupted him.  
"You don't want to repeat this?!" Miguel asked with immense relief.  
"No, I'm not interested in continuing this either." Ryan answered somewhat pissed off.

~~~~

"I ain't giving you head." Miguel stated.  
"You just let me fuck you up the ass." Ryan pointed out.  
"I still ain't sucking your dick."  
"What if I wanted to suck yours?"  
Silence.  
"That would just be too gay."  
"Yeah, you're right."  
Silence.  
"You actually would?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
**************************

They had a new delivery today. Nappa, Miguel and Wangler were already waiting for him. Ryan would  
arrive late, Toby wanted to test the waters himself first. He was looking forward to seeing the  
way they would interact with each other. There's much to tell by the way a man does business.  
They must be feeling very secure right now, thinking they got almost all corners covered. Toby had  
to wonder if they were really stupid enough to be counting on Miguel's fear of being labeled a fag  
to be more significant than what Toby had done for him. Well, Wangler wasn't a question here, but  
Nappa wasn't that dense. But well, predjudices could blind a man just as much as stupidity.  
But so did arrogance. Despite knowing, that probably no one in here was smarter than him in terms of  
intelligence and the only one who could best him in shrewdness, given Toby's former profession, being  
on his side already, he musn't feel too sure of himself. This was dangerous. This could get him killed,  
there was no second he could allow himself to forget this.

Chris waited outside the door with Cyril, Pancamo, Poet and Guerra. He watched Toby walk inside with  
complete confidence. So far no matter what they'd done, Toby had proven to be the better and the stronger.  
Chris had revelled in every single time, Toby had once again not fallen. And deep down he hoped Toby  
would win in the end. Against all these fuckers, against Schillinger, against him.  
Chris covetted Toby deeply for the antithesis of what he was and what he wanted to be. The way his brilliant  
mind was able to create eleborate designs most of his enemies would never see coming. How he was forced  
to use his skills for things he abhorred. The mixture of arrogance, self-loathing and innate goodness. It  
was as electrifying as it was frustrating.

"We need to change our delivery routes. I've got word that they've been found out." Wangler started the  
meeting.  
Toby was 89% sure that this was a ploy to get a hand on Toby's secret routes, so they could take him out  
afterwards and if it wasn't he could live with the loss of one delivery.  
"What kind of information was that?"  
"Yo, one of my homes from GenPop told me!"  
"Can he be trusted?"  
"You say, my boys ain't trustworthy?!"  
"Now, now, Kenny, lets not jump to conclusions." Nappa intervened.  
Well, Toby thought, big mistake of Nappa to rely on Wangler for his schemes, the guy was as vulpine as he  
was subtle.  
"I don't know, Wangler. Are you trustworthy? Because I've heard that you are intending to take over the tits-  
trade. I'd be careful, the shoes Adebisi left behind, might be to big for you."  
If there's something Nappa didn't want, it's war, so Toby would start exactly that. With the Irish and the  
Homeboys already as good as at each others throats, the last thing Nappa needed was someone dead on either  
side. Except, of course, Toby.  
"I'm sure Kenny has no such intention." Nappa started again.  
"Yo, old man, I can speak for myself!" Wangler interrupted him.  
Toby wasn't sure how much time he was buying himself with this, but hopefully long enough for him and Ryan  
to come up with a lasting solution.

Chris didn't know what was going on inside, he knew that Ryan and Toby had been scheming, but he hadn't been  
brought into the loop, much to his chagrin.  
But things inside seemed to go downhill fast. Wangler was yelling at Nappa and Pancamo was starting to look  
worried, ready to barge in any second now.  
"Seems like I came in time for all the fun." Ryan said, having finally arrived. Before he even had time to  
go in himself, Toby came walking out.  
"The meeting is adjourned."

**************************

Ryan didn't have to ask if it was worth it. He didn't have to, if all the lifes possibly lost due to this were  
worth it. He knew it was all worth it.  
"Lights out!"  
Ryan knew he wouldn't mind starting a war that would burn Em City and all of Oz to his grounds, to be  
with Miguel. Ryan knew he loved him.  
"Watcha thinking about?"  
Miguel leaned against him in the darkness of the night.  
"That's such a girly thing to ask." Ryan responded.  
Miguel only laughed. He probably knew the answer to that question too.

**************************

The lights might have been out, but Em City was far from calm. Be it sceming, violence or even love,  
in Oz, no one was sleeping the sleep of the just.  
Someone was getting ready for making a name for his own. Someone was wondering about how to  
get rid of an ally that had become a nuisance. Some were just waiting for a new day to come, trying  
to survive it. And some, some were thinking that, maybe, life wasn't all that bad.

**************************

Oh shit, it felt good. No denying that. No point in even trying. Scrambling over each other in  
the darkness of their pod. Kissing, touching, laughter rippling between them as Chris manhandled  
Toby on his bunk.  
But that's where it got complicated. From this point on it was a minefield, that either of them  
could set of anytime.  
Toby hadn't spent a thought on what kind of sexual release he was intending to get out of this.  
He knew better than to even try.  
Keeping the clothes on was a must. No blowjobs. Toby didn't even want to receive any. But of course  
there's a difference between what he needed and what he's willing to let happen.  
The fact that there were certain images, of things Chris could do to him, in his mind, didn't mean  
he could let those things happen. Shameful things. He wasn't willing to do them to Chris either. The  
thought of hurting another person like that, made him want to throw up.  
What Chris did to him was oh-so-damn-good. And Toby could allow himself to go ahead and take what he  
wanted to, letting Chris do the same. But this was no relationship of equality. It should have been,  
but Toby had rules to uphold. Rules that assured his safety, both mentally and physically.  
Sometimes it felt like a game of tug-of-war, one step forward, one step back.  
Things with Chris weren't even remotely like what Schillinger had done to him. But if he'd let this  
continue, at one point they were going to be, if only by course of action and not sentiment.  
It made him cringe, it made his skin crawl, it made him want to sink into the ground.

**************************

"Hey, Bitcher!" Ross approached him as he entered the gym, "How's it getting fucked on the regular again,  
lately?"  
"Why don't you tell me?" There wasn't much fucking going on between him and Chris, but that was no ones  
business, much less Ross'. He didn't belong any longer to the people Toby had to deal with. Since Ross'  
diminishing of manhood he'd lost most of his influence around Oz. The Biker's had subsequently been taken  
over by Jaz Hoyt, who Toby found a lot more agreeable. But he wouldn't make the mistake of making light of  
the vicious streak that could be found in an enemy, humiliated and seemingly defeated.  
It wasn't easy dealing with the joking and leering of the others. Though conducted behind his back, he wasn't  
oblivious to it.  
He had a gang to lead. He had to exude strength. And he would. Whoever thought this was making him weak  
was in for a nasty surprise.  
Ross let out a ugly laugh.  
"You think you're done with me, you little faggot. Well, I'm not done with you by far!"  
"Look, Scotty, whatever you got in your pants, be it what's left of your dick or a shank, I'd leave it there."  
Just, that moment Chris entered the gym.  
"Hey, Toby, you okay?" He eyed Ross, threateningly.  
"I'm okay, leave." Toby answered, tersely.  
"You sure?"  
"I said, get the fuck out!" Toby ordered.  
Chris took his cue this time.  
"Got some problems in the line of command?" Ross sneered.  
"Ross, you don't seriously think, I'm going to get into a brawl with you? If I want to deal with you,  
you're cellmate will find you with a shank in the back by tomorrow. Or I'll just call Whittlesey in here,  
right now, and have you sent to solitary for the rest of your sentence. So, if I want your opinion on my  
personal or business relationships, I'm going to ask you for it. Unless I do so, you're going to stay out  
of my sight. You did a pretty good job of that so far. Keep it that way."  
Toby waited until Ross had left the gym. Then he let out a deep breath. He could take someone like Ross  
in a fight, not someone like Robson, but then he didn't have to. Nevertheless, little tests of might  
like this always felt a bit off. He was getting more used to them, to the feeling of being somewhat  
superior to the other inmates, the feeling of your orders being complied to. But at the bottom line it  
still felt like a ruse he could be called on any second. Because Toby was aware of one thing. The moment  
someone challenged your supremacy, it showed you never had any to begin with.  
Yes, power stemmed from brute strength and money and influence, but in the end it was just in the heads  
of the people, willing to believe it.  
Upon leaving the gym himself, Toby remembered how things had ended between him and Chris. Shit.

He didn't find Chris, until lockdown, despite trying to subtly look for him. He couldn't run around looking  
for his boyfriend, looking like he cared all too much.  
"Chris, look..."  
"What's your fucking problem, Toby?!"  
All Toby's intentions to apologize, now in the privacy of their pod, fell away.  
"What is my fucking problem?! Really, Chris? Because I think it should be fucking obvious to anyone with  
a brain! You can't just challenge me in public!"  
"Challenged you? I was trying to protect you!"  
While it might have sounded sweet to someone else, it was a very sore topic for Toby.  
"I don't need to be protected!"  
"Yeah, sure, because you're Toby-allmighty." Chris scoffed.  
"Never! Do you listen, never, are you going to question my orders ever again in public!"

While Chris was pissed off to no end, Toby going all up against him, was turning him on to an disturbing  
amount. Once again he wondered how wrong all his perceptions of what Toby would be like had been. But at  
the end that didn't change anything, except that he'd had more of a good time than he'd expected.  
How do they say, all good things have to come to an end.

**************************

I'm sorry. He couldn't say it. No one was above him, not even his feelings. He didn't know what would  
happen. Chris didn't seem like the type who liked to back down. He seemed like the kind of guy who  
made others do just that. And with Toby he wouldn't have to try all that much. Toby chortled darkly. He  
knew next to nothing about the guy and already he felt like throwing abord everything. But he wouldn't.  
The lack of self-control, that had gotten him here in the first place, wouldn't get him a second time.

They were standing in row for count. Chris moved a little to the side, their arms were brushing. He send  
Toby a questioning look. Toby smiled, somewhat hesitantly.  
They were good again.

**************************

"I don't want a war. Not really. We just have to get rid of Nappa." Toby mused while he and Ryan sat  
in front of a mostly untouched game of chess.  
"He could just get ill. Things like that happen. And he's not exactly in his youth." Ryan suggested, leisurely  
moving a piece across the board.  
"We can't repeat your Nino, it would seem just a little too convenient."  
"Lots of diseases you can get. One might go in for a routine check and never get out."

**************************

"Pancamo."  
"Alvarez."  
"So, I'm here. What now?"  
"Mr. Nappa sends word. To proof your trustworthiness. You're going to convince your pals, to whack Wangler.  
After the business with the Irish is settled, you can take over the arrangement we had with the Homeboys."  
"I see." So they wanted to take advantage of Toby before they got rid of him. Nappa didn't want to have  
beef with the Homeboys himself.  
"It's a one time offer."  
"I see what I can do."

**************************

"I won't miss Kenny." Ryan shrugged.  
"I can do it." Cyril volunteered.  
"Just like that? He hasn't done a thing to us and we're already on a bad enough foot with the Homeboys." Toby  
objected.  
"There's no need to be scared of the Homeboys anylonger. Who's going to lead them, once Kenny's gone? Poet?  
Junior?" Ryan laughed.  
"They'll send someone new in." Toby's brows furrowed. "And he'll be a blank page to us."

**************************

"Shake down! Shake down!"  
Glynn had come down himself, bringing a SORT-team with him. Wow, what an honor. Toby smirked, while he  
got on his knees, putting his hands behind his head.  
"If you'd tell us what you're looking for, this would go a lot faster."  
"Are you a comedian now too, Beecher?" Glynn positioned himself in front of Toby, in what probably was  
supposed to be a domineering stance.  
"You know what they say, 'They always come out worse, than they went in.'" Toby answered, nonchalantly.  
One of the SORT-guys hit him from behind with his baton.  
"I'd be careful. You don't want another class-action suit." This time, there wasn't another blow.

They left empty handed except for the obligatory shanks. But that's not what they'd been looking for.  
Metzger walked over to Toby.  
"McManus wants to see you."

Toby took a seat in McManus' office, both men waiting for Metzger to leave before they spoke.  
"What was that today?" McManus asked with a stern voice.  
"Shake down, I'd say." Toby shrugged.  
"Don't start dancing around questions like Keller and O'Reily. I'd like to think that there's a certain  
level of confidence between us."  
Toby smiled wistfully.  
"There is. But at the end of the day, you're the only one that's going home."  
McManus seemed to draw onto all his powers of persuasion.  
"Something's going on in my unit and I want to know what. I can only help if I know."  
"You can't help." Toby shook his head. "Not with this. I appreciate your trying though."  
He got up again, turning around once more, "Give my best to Diane."

**************************

They were kissing, with feverish intensity. Time till lights-out had been far too long. Chris  
pushed him against the wall beside their sink, demanding more territory in Toby's mouth. Toby  
let out a shudder, his hips bucking against Chris'. Chris' hands roamed over his body, sliding  
further downwards. When he touched the band of Toby's pants, his hand was unceremoniously  
slapped away and he felt himself getting pushed away. Toby's face seemed unable to decide  
between pissed-off and utterly confused. It sure was cute to look at.  
Chris had realised his mistake even sooner, than Toby seemed to have come to the conclusion, about  
what had rubbed him the wrong way, so to speak.  
Toby was breathing hard, glad for the distance he'd brought between himself and Chris. He  
needed to think. That was the problem, he didn't think around Chris. He hadn't thought about  
his reputation when he'd kissed Chris in the laundry room. Well, he had thought, but obviously  
he'd come to the wrong conclusion. And he hadn't at all contemplated how being touched,...  
sexually involved... or whatever, with a man again, would affect him. Fuck, kissing had been so  
good (probably because he'd never done that with Schillinger), why couldn't the rest be that  
easy too? What was wrong with him?! He shouldn't want this, he shouldn't need this! Did this  
mean he'd subconciously liked what Schillinger had done to him?! Or was he so emotionally  
starved that he'd cling to a tree, if it'd only said something nice to him? Whatever reason, it  
ranged between disturbing and pathetic.  
"We don't need to do anything you don't want." Chris assured him.  
"I know that!" Toby snapped back, realising the immoderateness of his reaction only moments  
later. "Sorry...Shit!...I don't know..." Toby shrugged helplessly.  
Chris pulled him into a careful hug, grabbing tighter only slowly.  
"I'm going to kill him." he said, and he realized he meant it.

**************************

"What are those two doing?" Ryan wondered.  
"You mean at the moment?" Miguel asked, one eyebrow raised.  
Ryan laughed, but sobered up fast.  
"Seriously. What is Beecher thinking?"  
"I'd say, something along the same lines we are."  
"But in broad daylight? After everything he's been through, he's going to risk his reputation like  
this?!" Ryan snapped a finger in emphasis.  
"He's managed that pretty good so far."  
"Please don't tell me, you want such a completely disproportionate display of love in public, too."  
"Don't worry, so far I'm fine with completely disproportionate displays of love in private."

**************************

He was chewing on his lower lip, almost drawing blood. He wasn't even looking at the screen.  
"Tobias?" Sister Pete handed him another mug of coffee. "Is there something on your mind?"  
"Nothing I could talk to you about, really."  
"Tobias," she looked disapprovingly, "I'm your therapist, if you can't talk to me, I don't even  
know why I'm doing this job."  
"Is it...I'm...Really...Me and Keller..." What was he even trying to say? "We're...so to speak  
...It's difficult given my past...experience."  
Sister Pete nodded, as if still following.  
"Is there the possibility...to get over it...faster?...at all? I really don't want to be having  
this conversation."  
He didn't turn his face back to the computer screen fast enough, to miss her look of compassionate  
disapproval.

**************************

"Hey, Michael."  
Miguel spun around at the use of his much loathed former nickname.  
"Fuck you, Pancamo." He crossed his arms.  
"What about our little agreement? Why is this taking so long? Didn't have as much cred with  
Beecher as you thought?"  
"No can do. Glynn has an eye on the Unit. And there's word that they've got an narc in here. Right  
now, neither Beecher nor O'Reily is stupid enough to whack anyone."  
"Hm, could be," Pancamo shrugged, "Or maybe the Irish made you a better offer."  
"You better watch what you're implying here!"  
"Don't act like you're tough shit!" Pancamo went into Miguel's personal space. "If Adebisi hadn't  
whacked El Cid you'd still be his little bitch."  
Miguel didn't back away, instead stepped closer.  
"I was never anyone's bitch." He stated slowly, clearly, poised to attack.  
"What's going on here?" Whittlesey asked. "Come on you two. Take a walk!"  
Pancamo let Whittlesey pull him away, giving Miguel a smile before he left.  
"We'll catch up later, huh, Michael?"

**************************

Chris' need to touch Toby exceeded it's peak with every passing day. He watched him all day,  
unplanned and uncontrolled desire churning inside him. He wanted to touch him, kiss him, the  
thought of actually fucking him, made him nearly pass out. But he always had to be careful  
with Toby. Toby always had to call the shots, the moment he felt like the decision was taken  
from him, that something happened without his explicit asking for, he snapped, and it would  
take Chris hours to be able to approach him again. Like an abused dog, that would bite anything  
that moved too fast.  
He'd come this far, he'd managed to get inside Toby's head, inside his heart and it was only a  
matter of time until he would get inside his body. But it had come at a price, in the course of  
action he'd also had to give parts of himself. He'd had to let Toby in too. And that hadn't be  
planned.  
"Kiss me." he breathed into Toby's ear, pushing him into a relatively sight-proof corner of Em  
City.  
"It's broad daylight." Toby hissed, pushing away Chris' hands.  
Action. Reaction. Back. Forth. It was always the same dance between them. But Chris couldn't  
help himself. He took a chance and let his hand brush over Toby's hair, touching the nape of his  
neck. This gesture was disapproved of with an annoyed sound, but was let pass without penalty.

**************************

Shit, man. This was all falling apart. Ryan leaned against his pod wall. In times like this he  
definitely missed pot. But getting high, was the last thing he needed right now. He needed a plan.  
Fixing shit, was a lot easier if you didn't have to watch for collateral damage.  
Ryan liked it the way it had been for years. Fuck it, if you lose a pawn. In the end you win. When  
his own precious skin was the only thing he had to look after. Just Cyril and him. And Cyril sure  
as hell needed no one to look after him.  
But now he had friends. A lover. Toby and Miguel. People he cared about. People who were constantly  
in the way of harm. And it wasn't like he could let Keller die, either.  
It was gnawing on his nerves. Especially since the newest update from Miguel. But he could tell neither  
Toby nor Miguel to sit back in their pods all day and play nice.  
Miguel would only get angry. And Toby's strength had by now become his own too. Who attacked either of  
them, attacked the other too.  
Shit, they should have just whacked Wangler, when they still had time to. Now the Italians were already  
suspicious of Miguel. Complying to their order now would only be considered to be even more suspicious.  
"Goddamn!"  
"Hey, don't use the Lord's name in vain." Cyril joked, closing the pod door.  
"Tell me something good."  
"There's going to be jello in the cafeteria today?"  
"Well, I guess then I can stop worrying."  
"What's bothering you?"

**************************

"I don't know." Shifting around. Hands touching and moving away again.  
"Maybe we could...Let's...No. No...Oh fuck."  
Awkward pushing and pulling. Both literally and figuratively.  
Attempts to move further were maddeningly pathetic and unsuccessful. Toby felt abashedly like a  
highschool student, again.  
"Shit, sorry." Chris tried to stifle his laughter, when Toby punched him looking mortified, "It's just,  
you're red up to the tips of your ears. It looks adorable." He mentioned towards the mirror.  
"I'm going to murder you in your sleep." Toby growled, taking a look in the mirror nevertheless.  
"I told you, I'd let you fuck me. But you seem disinclined to the idea. And, if we're not even  
able to get out of our clothes, it's going to be a little difficult."  
"Did someone ever tell you that no one likes a smartass?!"  
"I thought that job was already taken by you."  
Toby tackled Chris.  
"How's it now?" Toby grinned down at Chris, after having knocked the wind out of him. "Still such a  
big mouth?"  
Chris looked up at Toby, "Why don't you stop laughing and do something useful with it, Cheshire cat?"  
"Still such a big mouth." Toby assessed, before leaning down to said mouth.

**************************

"I solved your problem." Cyril told Ryan, returning later from breakfast than usual.  
"What do you mean?"  
That moment Guerra approached them.  
"O'Reily, I just want you to know, that we had nothing to do with it. Alvarez was acting on his own.  
From now on I speak for the Latinos."  
Ryan schooled his expression more automatic than with any deliberate thought behind it.  
"Who says we're still doing business with you? Am I supposed to take your word on only Alvarez being  
behind it?"  
He turned around walking off, listening whether Cyril was following him. They stopped at the stairscase.  
Ryan leaned against it, scratching his neck, looking a little bored and waited for Cyril to settle beside  
him.  
"What the fuck was he talking about? What the fuck did you do?" He asked with a level voice, even sparking  
a short smile.  
"Chill, he'll live. And he's out off the playfield for now. That's what you wanted, right? The Italians  
think we found out that Miguel was working against us. And the Wangler business is of the table for now."  
He grabbed Ryan's arm, "And don't go running of to the infirmary right now. I already sent one of our boys  
in there because of 'food poisoning', to look after him.  
Ryan put an arm around Cyril's shoulder, laughing out loud this time, before he leaned over to him.  
"Never again are you making a decision like this on your own."

**************************

Ryan managed four hours and thirty-seven minutes before he cut his hand badly and had to be taken to the  
infirmary.  
Luckily Howles just left him there, even without one of the staff being around.  
Miguel looked black and blue but unmistakingly alive.  
Ryan walked over to his bed, taking his chances with the other remaining patients not belonging to him,  
asleep. He kept his voice low though.  
"Hey."  
"Hey."  
"I didn't order that." Ryan said.  
Miguel's brows furrowed.  
"I know. Cyril and I made this decision on our own. Given the circumstances it seemed the sensible thing to  
do."  
"He talked to you about it?"  
"No, he just barged in and beat me up. Of course he talked to me about it!"  
"You should have told me." Even though Ryan had to admit that it had been a pretty good solution for now.  
Miguel wasn't of use for Nappa's schemes any longer, and suspicions of Miguel still being on their side  
were for now sufficiantly quelled.  
And he would probably have come to the same conclusion had it been Keller instead of Miguel. But it had  
been Miguel.  
"Get away from Alvarez!" Dr. Nathan came running towards them, pulling Ryan away from the bed, "I won't  
have you settle your business in my infirmary! Officer!"  
Ryan put his hands up, placatingly, stepping away.

**************************

"It's going to be okay, Ryan." Toby comforted him. "This won't go on for much longer. I've made a few  
arrangements. There's a shipment of high-quality heroin coming in over a connection crossing several  
state borders. It can be traced back to Nappa. It's a high profile case. Nappa is going to be transferred  
to a federal prison."  
"That's a very fortunate coincident," Ryan smiled, impressed. "I wonder what Nappa will say to that."  
"He always wanted to know about our routes." Toby shrugged.  
"How did you do it?"  
"Some of our Russian friends from Pelican Bay helped. The line was dry anyway. The feds are on it, just  
waiting to see who it'll lead too."  
"You had to find an unbloody solution." Ryan shook his head, more amused than annoyed.  
"What are we, when we kill people just because it's the easiest solution?"  
"Economical?"  
"Oh, Ryan," Toby shook his head, "You're not as bad a person as you'd like to think."  
"I've got quite a few people fooled, then. But at least you see right through to my beautiful, noble,  
philantrophic core."

**************************

"Are you still willing to help?"  
Toby looked crestfallen, when Sister Pete watched him walk into her office.  
"Of course, always."  
Toby sat down with a profound sigh.  
"I think, I've been fooling myself, believing that I could get over everything that happened by just  
radically changing my life. I'm willing to face that error now."  
Sister Pete couldn't stop a small smile from spreading over her face. Chris Keller had been right. He  
was indeed good for Tobias.  
"I'm so very glad you're finally willing to take that step. I'm very proud of you, Tobias."  
"It's more desperation, than courage." Toby smiled, lopsidedly.  
"Those two often turn out to be the same thing. I have a proposal for you. You can refuse, but I have  
to insist, that you try first."

It wasn't until they arrived at the seperated room in psych ward, that he connected the dots. Peter  
Schibetta was already sitting inside the room.  
He'd last seen him at one of the meetings Peter had still been able to attend. Before Adebisi's slot had been  
filled with Wangler and Nappa had entered their lives. At first he'd thought with Nappa he had finally found  
someone reasonable to work with. Now it turned out Nappa was just another asshole and he actually had something  
in common with Peter Schibetta.  
Sister Pete waited until he'd went inside, before she closed the door behind them. Toby wasn't sure if they  
were watched through a one-way mirror, but he doubted Sister Pete would do something like that.  
Toby wasn't really sure what good this would do, given that Schibetta was obviously far worse off than him.  
"Schibetta." Toby took a seat. Schibetta looked fatigued, but relatively lucid, if maybe bordering on torpid.  
"Beecher. I heard what you did. Thank you."  
"You're welcome." Awkward silence. "So, you're getting out of here soon?"  
"Probably not."  
"What are we supposed to talk about?"  
"I really don't know."  
They had never liked each other. There were very few people here Toby really liked. And Schibetta hadn't cared  
much about Toby either, given his history.  
And yet, here they were joined in mutual...shame? Shame definitely was big part of it. Pain and shame and hate.  
And at this place it usually wasn't something you recovered from. And how were you supposed to recover? If being  
victimized was something you could never show, let alone talk about.  
"What does she think this is going to help us? Does she think one talk will fix it all?" Toby wondered.  
"No. This will take time." Schibetta answered, tiredly.  
Like everything significant in life.  
"You don't have to stay here, you know."  
"What do you mean?"  
"If you think that they won't accept you back in Em City, if you want to take the lead of the Italians again  
I'll support your claim." Toby didn't know why he'd said it. He didn't owe Schibetta shit. And this would mean  
nothing but trouble. Being brothers in shared misery wasn't a good enough excuse for this. He hadn't just fallen  
in here fresh and stupid, after all. He knew to keep his own benefit in focus. He would though, wouldn't he?  
Schibetta seemed equally taken aback by the offer.  
"We both know this is nothing to come back from."  
"I did."  
"Yeah, but you're crazy."  
It stung, and not because of the crazy part. Had he really come back from it? Outward, yes. But on the bottom  
line, wasn't he as much prisoner of it as Schibetta? Put on pause, unable to take his life back. As much as he  
was trying to make a point to the outside, he wasn't even believing it himself. Because deep down he didn't  
respect himself, he didn't accept it. He didn't love himself. He had expectations of himself. Expectations he  
fullfilled. He acted the way he wanted to feel. Painted the picture he wanted to project. But what good did it  
do him, if he didn't believe on bit of it.  
Just thinking about a comparison between Schillinger and Chris was so completely wrong. I he loved himself he  
would allow himself to let go and just be weak for a second. He had nothing to fear from Chris. Just allowing  
himself to trust again wouldn't kill him.  
If he didn't manage that he could as well get himself a cell right beside Schibetta.

**************************

"Actually, I'm not really sure how I was supposed to benefit from that talk." Toby shrugged, he wasn't ready  
to share his newfound knowledge. And really this was nothing to share.  
"She probably didn't either." Chris chuckled.  
"Probably." Toby agreed. "Well, I guess I should be grateful, after all I'm not in the looney bin."  
Yes, he wasn't. And there wasn't such a clear line between sane and insane around here. Just as there  
was no precise point of wholeness or happiness to reach. He would have to make it up as he went by.  
"You know, I do want to have sex with you." Toby said carefully.  
"That's good to know." Chris raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going.  
Toby didn't either. Was it about trust or just about physical discomfort? Would some more therapy fix it?  
Was he scared that doing this with Chris would somehow sully him? Make him seem like Schillinger? And by  
acting according to that fear, didn't he confirm it? It was hard to clearly identify his motivations. What  
were the things he really didn't want to do? What were the things his fear just wasn't letting him do? Right  
now the fear was almost blinding, it was hard to tell.  
Toby started to take off his shirt, then his pants, all the time keeping his eyes on Chris.  
"You might strip as well." He said more matter-of-factly than seductive.  
Chris looked at him, looked away, put his hands on the rim of the sink and took a low breath. Then he  
turned to Toby again.  
"I'm going to ask the obligatory 'Are you sure?' now. If you wanna stop at some point, just say so or, I  
don't know, punch me in the face."  
It drew a still slightly tense chuckle from Toby.  
"So, are you sure?"  
"Shit, I don't know." Toby was brushing the hair out of his face, "I really don't know. But I think right  
now, that's good enough." He was smiling.

**************************

The familiar sound, of the celldoors opening, woke Toby, followed by the usual call for count. Toby had  
gotten through the night more or less unscathed.  
To say he was feeling good would have been exagerated. But he was still in love with Chris, he didn't feel  
like having a panic attack and he'd done something he'd been really, really scared of. He smiled broadly,  
climbing down from his bunk to settle on Chris'.  
"Get up." He whispered into Chris' ear.  
"Hm?...tickling." Chris mumbled, putting a hand over his ear.  
Toby really wondered how Chris managed stay asleep despite the noise outside.  
"You okay?" Chris asked him.  
"Yeah." Toby answered, confidently. Because he was. He had stopped treading water. He was moving again.  
He had dared and won. And he would continue to do so. Because, right now, life was astonishingly good  
and Chris was worth it. And he was worth it too.

"You look sparkling." Ryan greeted him at breakfast.  
"I look what?" A smile broke over Toby's face on it's own.

**************************

Toby was dunking a few balls. Not so much dunking. He was still as bad at basketball as he'd been in school.  
Someone entered.  
"Mr. Nappa." Toby was surprised.  
"Mr. Beecher."  
You could say a lot about the two of them, but they always stayed polite.  
"You know, I liked you, before you became a fag. You have brain unlike guys like Wangler."  
"So, what's your excuse? Religion? Or are you more along the lines of Schillinger?"  
Nappa didn't answer to that.  
"I talked to your godson not so long ago." Toby continued.  
"Now, why would you do that?"  
"We talked about our experience of being raped."  
Nappa's jaw tensed.  
"You like being offensive, Mr. Beecher."  
"Oh, I wouldn't consider myself offensive." Toby shrugged.  
"I know you know I'm trying to take you out of the picture."  
"And what good is that knowledge going to do you?" Toby smiled, despite being the opposite of elated by this surprise.  
"I don't know what good it is going to do me, but I sure know someone who it will affect." Nappa smiled, "Your little  
friend Alvarez for example. Once I tell my boys about your little alliance, Pancamo will be only too happy to take him  
out."  
"So what? Alvarez is just a tool." Toby shrugged.  
"You're good by now, Mr. Beecher. But you're a long way from types like O'Reily."  
"I'm not a huge fan of bloodshed. We are both businessmen, we like to make money. I don't see why we should let our  
personal differences disrupt our fruitful business-partnership."  
"I'm not a friend of unnecessary bloodshed either, so I'm giving you a chance. You back out of business, take your  
boyfriend with you and no one has to get hurt. Not even your friend in the infirmary, who could be dead by tonight if  
I want it to be."  
Shit. Shit. Shit. Toby's thoughts were running in overdrive. Trying to find a loophole to get this whole fucking conversation  
back into territory he could work with. If Nappa left this room, the Italians would know that Miguel was working with  
them. He needed to turn this around. Bluff? Threaten? Bribe?  
"I can't let you out of here like this."  
"You don't have it in you to kill in cold blood, Mr. Beecher. You think you can play with the big kids, but in fact  
you can't. I see great potential in you, but you're not even half there. And you'll never will be. Because you have  
the wrong priorities. Like saving that other faggot from deathrow. Yeah, I know about that. You will see that there  
wasn't really a choice for you since I entered the room. And before either of us leaves this room, you will come to  
see it my way, Mr. Beecher."  
The shank sank into soft flesh with a lot more ease than the last time. That alone should have been enough to shake him  
to his foundation.  
Nappa looked surprised. He looked up right at Toby's face. Then he laughed, while the blood dripped from his mouth.  
"Well, you see, boy. Sometimes you have to dirty your hands. Not so fun anymore up close, huh?"  
Then it was over. Fast.  
Toby let the body sink to the floor.  
"You were right, I never had a choice once you entered this room."  
He left the room, luckily he hadn't gotten blood all over him. Something Cyril had taught him. Keep the shank in until the  
heart stops pumping blood. He melted the shank (once upon a time a plastic spoon) in the seclusion of the supply-closet.  
What remained was a lump of white plastic. He carefully wrapped it in a sheet of paper and went to his afternoon shift at  
Sister Pete's office.  
There was already a lot of crumpled-up paper in her dustbin, when he arrived.  
He went to work as usual.  
He hadn't even considered stepping out of the business. Not for a second. His conversation with Ryan came to mind.

He had been sitting at his desk for quite some time working in a stupor (he had to keep up appearances after all, that  
much he still knew), when the alarm went off. No one came to pick him up. Why would they?  
He was no threat.

**************************

"How the fuck could this happen?!" Ryan yelled.  
"I don't know! Dammit, I don't know!" Toby was pacing inside Ryan's pod. "It just...I couldn't let him leave!"  
Toby told him what exactly had happened in the gym.  
"Fuck." Ryan sat down on his bunk, heavily. "What of the murder weapon?"  
"Disposed of it." Toby sat down beside him. "Do you think the Italians will talk?"  
"They can talk all they want, as long as they don't have evidence. It might have just as well been an inside job.  
Or Wangler. Who will ever know."

**************************

"Toby?" Chris didn't say anything else when he picked him up for dinner.  
He knew. It was clear to Toby instantly. No one had told him yet. But he knew.  
The rows of the Italians were mostly empty, when they arrived. They had bigger problems to settle.

**************************

They were back in their pod.  
"You wanna tell me?"  
Ryan had said, tell no one. Not even Chris.  
"I killed Nappa."  
"He left you no choice."  
Toby laughed, sadly, "How would you know?"  
"You wouldn't have done it otherwise. I know you."  
"Who decides what 'no choice' means? There's always a choice."  
"Did they tell you that on your fancy private school? That's bullshit. In here, you have no choice more  
times than you do."

**************************

Toby woke up with a jolt. Schillinger again. It was a little worrying that his subconscious didn't  
seem to have a problem with him having killed Nappa. But then, the cast of his nightmares was already  
complete as it was.  
Chris was standing in front of their bunks, looking at him, dark and worried.  
"Get the fuck down, Toby." his voice was much gentler than his words.  
Toby was resting his head on Chris' arm, slowly calming down.  
"Dammit, you're a mess. I can feel your heartbeat, like it's my own." he pulled Toby closer to  
his chest, nearly pulling him off his bunk, his arms wrapped around him, lightly kissing Toby's  
head. "Do you trust me so little? Do you really think I'd turn it against you? Still?" Somehow  
Chris hoped Toby really wouldn't trust him. He hoped, he would push him away and run away as long  
as he still could.  
"If I tell it, it will become real."  
"It already is real, everytime you close your eyes."  
Toby had to laugh at the accuracy of Chris' assessment of the situation. It sounded hollow and  
tired, exactly like he felt.  
"I don't fear him any longer. I of course, assess his potential danger, like I do with any enemy,  
but I'm not scared of him. But nevertheless, when I close my eyes, I'm his bitch again. I'm back  
down on my knees. And I hate myself for my weakness. I'm disgusted with myself."  
"You are not the one that's weak. You stood up. You fought. You won. There's nothing weak about  
still being human. In a place like this it, you should be worried if you didn't have nightmares."  
"You don't have nightmares."  
"Yeah, but I'm not a very good person."  
"Yes, you are." Toby kissed him.  
~No, I'm not. I'm not, Toby.~  
"And now get down, for Christ's sake."  
This time Toby complied, climbing down to Chris' bunk.  
Thank God, he had Chris, Toby thought when he settled down beside him. Thank God.

**************************

"It's time to finish the game, Chris."  
"Nah, I can push him further."  
"I say it's over. It's over."  
"Oh, get off your high horse, Vern. I've been running this game, leave it the fuck to me to know  
how to do it."  
"I hope you're not losing the focus of what's important and what's not."  
"Yeah, he just wants to have a little more of Beecher's sweet pussy." Robson chimed in with a hyena-like  
laugh.  
"You be careful what you're talking," Chris voice was rough, eyes dark, "Or I might have some of your  
sweet pussy."  
"Boys will be boys." Schillinger stopped the situation from getting any further. "You do your thing,  
Keller, but the clock's ticking."

**************************

"I heard you're taking over now, Chucky." Toby looked up from his book, after he'd been ignoring Pancamo  
for five minutes straight, "You're not going to give us any trouble, are you?"  
"No trouble. Just business." Pancamo shrugged, going for nonchalant.  
"That's good. I appreciate professionality." He patted Pancamo on the back.  
Pancamo stood still for a moment.  
"They will find out you did it. That you whacked Mr. Nappa."  
"Did what? Me and Antonio never shared a bad word. If there was one of Mr. Nappa's closest friends behind his  
premature demise, it would have been you, Chuck. You're the one who gets the most out of his death. Before,  
you were a dog. Now, you're leading the Wiseguys."

**************************

Miguel returned from the infirmary. It wasn't a secret any longer that he was working with the Irish,  
though no one knew how close exactly. But since it seemed that Toby wasn't going to be leaving business  
anytime soon and the Italians were out of jizz as it was, with Nappa gone, the Latino's made haste to  
accept Miguel back as their leader. It was nothing to be ashamed of, working with the Irish. It wasn't  
like he was fucking one of them.

**************************

Life returned to it's relatively normal pace. Business as usual. Glynn was still trying to fuck them over.  
McManus was still trying to save some souls, just like Sister Pete and Said.  
There was still the random asshole, that tried to get on Toby's bad side. But mostly things were okay.  
Things with Chris sure enough were more than okay.  
And Chucky seemed to have given up all hopes of taking a vendetta for Nappa, in favor of profit.

**************************

"And sometimes I think, it's all been a mix-up and soon they'll realize that I'm not one of them and  
I'm back where I started."  
"You seem to have everything pretty much under control." Chris said his head resting on  
Toby's back, with Toby lying on his stomach. He felt the rumble in his body, when Toby laughed.  
"Oh, I haven't changed that much from who I used to be. Or maybe I have. But that doesn't  
change that everything I believed in is still pretty much the same. But caring is a weakness  
here so I can let no one see it." he turned on his side to see Chris' face. "Sometimes I feel like  
breaking down and just crying. But I can't. Never. I won't ever allow myself to be weak again."

**************************

Toby's face was nothing more than a blurr in the dark. A blurr with light reflecting where the eyes  
were. It's pensive night again, not fucking night, Chris could tell. Though those two weren't mutually  
exclusive.  
Again he's conflicted about right and wrong and whatever. Chris was 99% sure it was Said's fault.  
"I've already lost myself, when I came here." Toby's voice again cut through the silence. "Then I  
changed and thought that maybe I had never been myself to begin with. That now I'd found a strength,  
I didn't even knew I possessed. But now...I don't know...I'm doing all those despictable things. Sure,  
to survive, but does that really justify it? I've killed people. I've ordered kills." he looked at Chris,  
desperately willing him to understand it. "I don't know whether I've lost myself again or whether that's  
really what I'm like deep down."  
"You worry too much. You do what you have to. There's nothing wrong about that. You're no longer a  
victim and you'll never be again."  
~No one can ruin you. No one can taint you. Not even I.~

************************

His chest was rising up and down. Chris watched the movement through the dark, Toby's sleeping on Chris'  
bunk tonight.  
Toby wasn't like the rest of them. He still saw the difference between right and wrong. He still felt  
the need to help. Chris hadn't understood it in the beginning, had perceived it for weakness, but he'd  
been wrong.  
In what kind of world were they living, that a guy like Toby would fall for him? Chris knew what kind  
of world. The kind of world where Toby had to justify his morals, where Toby was the odd one out. He was  
part of it. You couldn't move this world out of him, just like you couldn't move him out of this world.

************************

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen, huh Beecher?"  
Toby knows instantly, when he sees Schillinger's sneer. He knows what's happened and what's going to happen.  
First to him, then to the others.

SNAP.  
SNAP.  
SNAP.  
SNAP.

Instead of maybe sadness, fear or disbelief, Chris doesn't know what he's expected, but definitely a loss of  
self-control. All he sees in Toby's face is cold rage, even as he lies there on the floor. He's contained and  
determined, when he says it in a level voice.  
"You're going to die, Keller."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please comment! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ yes,sir♪
> 
> NOTICE:
> 
> for everyone who's wondering when the next chapter will be up, I currently have both hands in a cast. And yes, I'm aware of the irony.^^°  
> Basically, that means I'm currently only doing editing with the help of speech software (which is a real bitch sometimes) and won't be able to continue writing on chapter 8 until I have the full use of my hands back.


	8. Game Over or Continue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation-Toby has come to a conclusion.   
> Oz is in mayhem. Decisions have to be made.   
> Some underdogs might try their luck.   
> Ryan has to question himself if he's going to cut his losses.   
> Miguel is faced with a completely different, yet nevertheless essentially problem.  
> And Toby isn't the only one who wants revenge.  
> Oh, and there's going to be a boxing match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter!!! Oh God, it's been so Long since I last updated. Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon this story!  
> My attempts to put a whole season into one chapter have once again failed. Trying to oversee the whole storyline, with each substory was just too chaotic and I was stuck in place. But now I've splitted the chapter.  
> It's been so much fun doing this chapter. All that anger, time for Toby to get out his dark side again.^^
> 
> So, here's the first part of season 3. Enjoy!
> 
> By the way, a big thank you to everyone who commented or left kudos! Especially sahem62896, baef09 and wendybird!

Miguel watches Toby getting transported off. SORT guys are running everywhere, while Metzger shouts for  
a lockdown. He backs away to his cell, still not believing his eyes. Who would dare to do this to Toby?  
Yes, who indeed. That's a question they all know the answer to. Even though these days it might as well  
have been the Italians or the Homeboys.

Cyril is in the kitchen doing the dishes, when the hacks come in and tell him to get back to Em City,  
without regard to the dirty dishes still piling up, leaving him just enough time to take the rubber  
gloves off. They pass some of the Aryans who are taken back to Unit-B by a SORT-team.  
"Your time is over!" Robson sneers at him.  
"Easy to mouth up when you got SORT guys protecting your ass." Cyril retorts without having a clue  
what happened. But something has, he's left not ten minutes ago and now he comes back into a zone of  
war.

Peter listens to the nurses standing in front of the his cell.  
"There was another incident at Emerald City."  
"Seriously? They should really shut it down, Tim doesn't know what he's doing there."  
It takes another two hours and a visit at Sister Pete's to find out what exactly happened.

"You see, Marco?" Pancamo turns to one of his sidekicks, "Things are turning in our favor. O'Reily  
should have gotten off the sinking ship as long as he still got time."

"This means war." Rebadow turns to Busmalis, shaking his head regretfully, as they make for the safety  
of their pod.

"This means war." Whittlesey tells McManus in his office, throwing a wary glance through the blinds  
into Em City.  
"I won't let it come to that." McManus answers, rubbing his temples.  
Whittlesey only laughs harshly at that, before she returns to work.

****************

There's nothing but watching and waiting. There are those who watch and those who plot. But Ryan doesn't  
even know what he's supposed to plot. Because Miguel and Cyril know about as much as he does, about what's  
happened. That means all he can do right now is make an educated guess. The Aryans did it that much's  
clear, but they couldn't have done it alone and that's where just too many unknown variables come into it.  
The Italians. The Homeboys. The Bikers. The hacks. For what he cares it might just as well have been the  
bloody Christians. It might even have been a mole. Ryan doesn't know who's responsible, but someone fucked-up  
and he needs someone to die for this. No one touches his fucking family!  
But he knows nothing. He knows fucking nothing! 

*****************

Toby is sure he's never felt so much hate for a person in his entire life. Even while his shattered  
bones are patched up, he barely feels it. His mind is an unfocused swirl of raging anger and hate.  
Hate for the man he loves. Hate for the stupid lawyer, that got him in this situation, when he  
should have known better.  
Schillinger is the least of his concerns. Of him he didn't expect anything else. He will be dealt  
with in time.  
He should have seen it, yet he ran right into it. So stupid. So weak. The last remains of the lawyer  
getting in his way. For the last time, that much he can promise, to himself as much as to everyone  
else.  
The wheels are reeling inside his head, already setting in motion, the plans that will shake Oz  
to it's foundations.  
"...Beecher!..Beecher!"  
He didn't even realise that McManus had come in.  
When Toby looks up, his lips are white with tension. He reminds McManus more of a rabid dog.  
"Who did this? You can tell me!" there's real anger and concern in McManus' voice. Though he  
never approved of the turn in Toby's pursuit of happiness, he never forgot what Toby had done  
for him, during the riot.  
Toby just shakes his head, smiling deadly.  
"I knew something was wrong!" McManus rants on, "Did you know this was going to happen?!"  
Toby can actually laugh at that, "Do you seriously think, if I knew about this it would have  
happened?"  
"Give me a name, Beecher. Something I can work with."  
"No idea," Toby shrugs, "Didn't see any faces."  
"I won't allow it to be handled between yourselves!"  
Now, Toby's smile looks more humoring, with a hint of pity.

************

The first hours after they get out of lockdown are pure chaos. Ever since the hacks took Toby out of  
the gym on a stretcher, everyone seems to think the cards are getting dealt anew now. In the last two  
hours there were three attacks on members of the Irish. Everyone is reevaluating his options. This mustn't  
have happened! A major blow! Something like this didn't happen since he killed Nino. And Toby stabbed  
Adebisi, he adds in afterthought.  
It's fucking mayhem. Those not involved in any gang are watching with curiousity what's going to blow  
up next, while Ryan is trying to keep his people together. Cyril wants to kill Schillinger right now,  
but Ryan knows he'll have to talk to Toby before that.  
The Aryans are responsible no doubt about that. But they had help from inside. And he wasn't even  
allowed to see Toby, because for some ludicrous reason (or maybe just because he doesn't like him)  
McManus seems to count him to the suspects.  
Calling a meeting is the first thing Ryan does. For now he has to do damage control. But sooner or  
later someone is going to get hurt.

When Chris Keller resurfaces some time later, everything is clear, though. Ryan had been wondering  
where he's been. Now he knows. One look at his face and Ryan knows everything he needs to. It's a  
reassuring feeling to know who you have to kill. If the guy had any fucking sense he would have offed  
himself by now. There will be a hell of a lot of motherfucking blood.

When Miguel comes back from his shift in the infirmary he leans beside him against the wall and  
whispers three names to him. Two Ryan already knows.

************

This time Ryan isn't late. It's a different assembly than the last time. Him, Pancamo, Wangler  
and Miguel. No Toby.  
"Seriously, O'Reily," Pancamo starts off, "You gotta keep your shit together. Lockdown's bad for  
business."  
"Don't worry, I'll take care of things." Ryan returns, without any hint of humour to his voice.  
"I don't know," Wangler shrugs, "Shit like this makes you seem kinda unreliable, changes things.  
Maybe..."  
"Nothing changed, Kenny," Ryan stops him, voice sounding older than ever and cold to the bone,  
"Nothing at all changed."  
Neither Pancamo nor Wangler retort anything.

*************

It's time to get things ready. Ryan is assembling all the Irish in Oz. It's time to get weapons.  
Time to stay together. Time to repay some debts in blood.  
"There will be war now." He says to Miguel.  
Cyril laughs from the corner of their pod, sharpening his newest shank.

Ryan runs into Said when he leaves his pod. Does the guy have so few friends lately, that he wants  
to hang with him?  
"This is not the way, O'Reily," Said tells him, sounding as always grave and enigmatic, with a hint  
of mania. "War is never the answer."  
Ryan chuckles at that.  
"I think you mixed something up here." he tells Said, "Beecher listens to you. I don't."

*************

It's extremely uncomfortable, but keeping things going is taking Toby's mind of his current state.  
Miguel works in the infirmary anyway and Ryan is coming by as often as possible.  
"I can take care of this for you." Miguel proposes yet again.  
"Uh-uh" Toby replies with a grin, that makes Miguel's skin crawl. "No one but me touches him."

*************

As it turns out, Adebisi didn't die. Toby can't say he's surprised, it's the proper completion of  
the shit-rain that's come down on him. And hey, at least he has one death less on his head. Good  
Karma. He chuckles. Mark Mack looks at him as if he's gone crazy. Toby laughs even harder. That's  
another point about the recent events. He's now sharing the infirmary with mostly Aryans. While his  
'do-not-touch' sign on Chris, Schillinger and Metzger is obeyed, his friends feel free to take their  
bottled-up anger out on the rest of Schillinger's lot.  
Toby doesn't exactly enjoy their company, but he appreciates the sentiment behind it. And Adebisi for  
that matter is still too weak to even get up.  
"Don't go crazy yet, Beecher." Adebisi tells him from across the floor. "Not until I'm finished with you."  
The irony of them lying facing each other isn't lost on Toby either. If he still believed in God, he'd  
think that he's trying to tell him that he went wrong at some point.  
"Shut the fuck up, Adebisi! Or I'll leave you lying in your own shit." Miguel addresses Adebisi, before  
Toby can find the energy to come up with something witty.

*************

Whittlesey turns up the other day under the excuse of bringing some roughed up guy to be patched-up.  
"Isn't that a bit below supervising officer?" Toby asks, when she comes to his bedside. She laughs  
drily.  
"How are you faring?"  
"Could be worse, I got some lovely company as you can see."  
"Em City's finest." She turns serious again. "Tim is looking into it, but you have to testify."  
"Won't be happening."  
She nods, understanding.  
"Tell me who was in it aside from Schillinger and I'll persuade Tim to send him over to me to Unit B,  
we'll have a confession in no time."  
"I appreciate the offer. I won't forget it."  
He can see in her eyes that she understands him, where McManus doesn't.

*************

"Have one of the boys kill one of the Homeboys and make it look like the Italians did it." Toby says,  
"My accident makes us seem vulnerable right now, we need to keep them busy with each other  
until I'm back on track."  
"Yeah, good thought, Beecher." Ryan replies. "I'll get things in motion. Don't worry, you'll just  
get better and I can handle it on my own for a while. And we make them pay once you're back.  
You can be sure of that."  
"Thanks."  
"You're my brother. We look out for each other."

**************

Toby's gone. The game is over. He won. He should sit with the Aryans now. Celebrating his  
probably best performance.  
But he sits by himself, even though Ryan shoots him looks like he wants to kill him. Which he  
without doubt does. Chris is very aware that the only reason he's not strung up dead somewhere, is  
because Toby hasn't given the okay.  
He'd need the protection of the Aryans desperately. He's not vain enough to think that he could  
stand alone against the Irish and more or less the Latinos, all by himself.  
Toby sure as hell hasn't called of his imidiate death because he still has such warm feelings for  
him, but because he wants to do it himself, or at least watch.  
Nevermind all the kind and high-moraled bullshit that still makes the core of Toby, he can be  
vicious. Chris has seen enough proof of that.  
He hasn't been able to make a clean cut this time. Working the con, then stepping back and  
admiring his work. He still sees too much Toby. In every centimeter of their pod.  
He's never felt guilty about any of the times he'd played someone, digging real deep and then  
the winner takes it all. But this time he does.  
And though Toby is gone he is omnipresent here in Emerald City, fuck in the whole prison. He's  
omnipresent in the way the Aryans are in a way too good mood these days, despite their rows being  
thinner than usually. He's omnipresent in the way Ryan moves his finger across his throat when he  
sees him. In the way an Irish bumps into him in the line waiting for food. It's in the dangerous  
smile Cyril shoots him when he dishes out food to him. He feels him when he's again got a table all  
to himself during lunch. He hears him in the inevitable hushed "Beecher" whispered by inmates under  
their breath. After all, the happenings in the gym are still the talk of everyone in Oz, imates and  
hacks alike. McManus still desperately trying to find out who did it, but met by a wall of silence,  
while the other cons of course know who did it, well aware that Chris was part of it.  
Those who thought that Beecher wouldn't come back from that one, are by now wiser. Ryan O'Reily  
has shown without space for doubts, that whatever friendship/businesspartnership is going on  
between them, runs deeper than everyone thought. Ryan is far from washing his hands of Beecher, the  
Irish are out for war. And Toby himself? Some expected a breakdown, some thought he'd finally subcumb  
to madness. But he's still calling the shots, even out of the infirmary, even with arms and legs in a  
cast. Miguel acting both as round-the-clock bodyguard and information link between Ryan and Toby.  
He's omnipresent in the way everything in Oz is on hiatus. For the inmates time has stopped.  
Everyone is waiting, always waiting. The Irish and Aryans pacing past each other like tigers in a  
cage, waiting for the signal to finally attack. Everyone waiting for the return of Tobias Beecher.  
To see what he's become, what's gone, what's still there. Waiting for him to start the clock again,  
in the new age of 'after Beecher got his arms and legs broken'.  
And no one's waiting more eagerly than Chris. Because no one feels his omnipresence more than him. 

*************

He hasn't seen him for three weeks. If looks could kill... He didn't expect anything else, though.  
"What are you doing here?" Toby asks with an icy voice.  
"How are you doing?" Chris asks, sounding self-conscious.  
Toby laughs, dry and angry.  
"I'm a lot better than you're going to be once I'm finished with you."  
"You have every right to be angry."  
"Damn right, I do."  
"I'm sorry." Chris says with a pained face.  
Miguel has seen him by now and immediately walks over.  
"Shall I get rid off him?" He asks without even acknowledging Chris' presence.  
"No, no. Leave him, I want to hear what he's got to say." Eyes still on Chris with a mixture  
of disgust and amusement. It reminds Chris of the way a predator looks at his prey, while  
deciding whether to play with it a little longer or eat it right away.  
Miguel retreats grudgingly.  
"Listen, what I did was wrong. I want to make it up to you."  
"You are going to. By dying slowly and painfully by my hand." Toby states like it's an universal  
truth.  
"There's gotta be another way to proof my sincerity to you. I do love you, Toby!"  
"Isn't Schillinger protecting you? Or why else would you come to me, your tail between your  
legs. I would have thought that was part of the deal." Toby is talking about it, like this matter  
never concerned him in any way personally.  
"Hey, you want revenge on Schillinger. I can help you with that."  
"I don't need your help."  
"How about I confess to McManus? I'll rat both Schillinger and Metzger out."  
"Not good enough."  
"Come on, you know what that's going to cost me. They'll cut my balls off."  
"Alright, do it. But leave Metzger out. I want him to still be here, when I get back."  
"Okay, Toby." Chris reaches out for his hand. Though unable to move, Toby tries to shy away.  
"Don't touch me!" he hisses. And immediately, Miguel is back to escort Chris out.

************

He is so damn pathetic and weak. Thinking about the way his heart fluttered when Chris  
told him, that he does love him, makes him want to claw open his own skin, if he was able to  
move.  
He refuses to take any painkillers this night, to punish himself for his weakness. Damn. He  
is back to good old Bitcher, falling for the oldest trick in the book. Now he would be everyones  
laugh again. He'd make sure they weren't laughing for too long, though.  
And the worst of all, he feels like getting really drunk or high or whatever. Anything to escape  
»this« reality.  
But he'll make it through this too. The pain in his heart like the pain in his limbs will make him  
only stronger. After this, no one will ever get close enough again to hurt him.  
He will get Chris- Keller. And after that he'll come for Schillinger.  
What he's done to him. After everything...This was so much worse than the rape and the humiliation...  
It wouldn't even have needed the broken bones...Just the betrayal would have been enough to shatter  
him more thoroughly than anything physical could ever have.  
Because. He. Should. Have. Seen. It. Coming!  
But he hadn't. He'd walked right into it, all innocent and blue eyed. Like when he first walked  
into Schillinger's pod.  
Keller, he's only been a tool in this. But how he must have relished in it. No one acts that good  
without getting a kick out of it. Had they laughed together about him? Had he told Schillinger  
how he'd fucked him? Surely.  
He let that fucking bastard touch him! He let him have him! The thought makes his eyes fill  
with tears. But he won't cry. He doesn't do crying. Stopped with it what feels like a lifetime  
ago.  
Why? Why did he let Chris touch him?! He thought he loved him. No, he shouldn't try to lie  
to himself. He has loved him. Considering his inappropriate emotional reaction, he still does to  
some point. But he can love him all he wants, Chris is going to die nevertheless. Because that's  
how things work in here.  
He will do it himself. That man who touched him so gently and then sometimes not. The one he  
shared with all those emotions he's buried, since the day he decided to step out of the shadow  
Schillinger had been throwing over him. Chris has made him weak, oh so weak. And he craved it.  
He let Chris fuck him. He wanted it.  
In retrospective he isn't sure which is worse, the physical liberties he's given him, or the  
emotional.  
Chris kissed him, he touched him, he fucked him and then he fucked him over alright.  
And now he walks up to him, telling him that it was all a mistake that he meant what he said!  
As if he hasn't been humiliated enough.  
No matter what he's talking. He doesn't believe one fucking word that's coming out of his  
filthy, lying mouth.

************

After three weeks of protective custody, Chris is back in Em City. His first way leads him to the  
infirmary to see Toby.  
"Hey." Chris greets him with a smile.  
"Well, look who's still alive. What a shame, I thought Schillinger was more of a man of action."  
"What are you talking about, Toby? I thought we're good, again. I did what you asked me to do."  
Chris says, desperation and anger visible in his voice.  
"Did you really think it would be that easy? You betray my trust, you break my arms, you sell  
me off to my archenemy and you think, I would ever forgive you for that." Toby looks at him  
like he said something utterly ridiculous. "You are going to learn what it means to fuck with  
me."  
Chris looks at Toby in disbelief. The man who is lying in front of him is unable to move, arms  
and legs in a cast. Still he acts with a deliberation and assuredness, as if he's got  
everything under control. And though Chris knows what the real Toby is like, he is easily fooled  
by it. With nothing but a swipe of his tongue, Toby has retaken control, showed him his place.  
Did he really think Toby would make it that easy? No. Toby was never someone who came at a  
cheap price.

************

Chris watches the moment everybody coincidentally seems to leave the gym, with resolve.  
At one point it was going to happen, he knew that from the second he agreed to rat  
Schillinger out. And it's not like the hacks are going to let him just leave. Schillinger  
has surely paid for them.  
At Oz impending death is always a possibility. But he won't make it easy for them.  
The door opens again and sure enough five members of the Aryan brotherhood come walking in.  
"Time for payback, Keller." Robson sneers at him.  
Chris gets into fighting stance, while his opponents circle him.  
The door opens again. This time there are about 10 members of the Irish.  
"Wrong party." McInerney says. Chris knows him, one of the Irish in Gen Pop.  
The Aryans turn around, throwing them intimidading looks. The Irish just stand there, arms  
crossed and don't budge.  
"We will deal with him," the irish continues. "No one touches him."  
To Chris' disappointment the Aryans aren't stupid enough to pick a fight against these odds.  
As it seems, Toby is keeping a close eye on him.

************

Cyril comes walking towards Toby's bed.  
"How's it going?"  
"Funny." Toby retorts, surprised he can actually see the humor in it.  
"Already heard the news? There's a new kid at the Muslims. Is stirring up some shit with your  
pal Said. Name's Hamud Khan or something."  
"You're keeping an eye on him, yes?"  
"Alrighty." Cyril mock-salutes.

************

Eight fucking weeks and he is finally back in EmCity. He has to use a cane to walk, but it will  
only be temporary. Otherwise he is fine. Right. Except the burning, breathtaking rage that  
howls inside of him.  
The leaders of the other gangs eye him curiously when he walks to his pod. Miguel acknowledges  
him with a respectful nod (for sake of appearances). Everyone else lowers his gaze, not daring to  
look at him. They all remember the guy who had been doing bedpan duty. He'd made the mistake of  
laughing openly, making jokes about Toby's »condition«. Now he is walking around with a permanent  
smile, going from one ear to the other.  
Schillinger has been transferred to Unit B, so there are only some of his sidekicks here, who  
sneer but don't dare to insult him directly. Cyril and Ryan greet him enthusiastically.  
"It's good you're back, man."  
"Tits-trade hasn't been the same without you."  
"Who am I sharing pod with now?"  
"So far you're by yourself."  
"Then the next topic on our agenda is my dear old friend Metzger."  
"How do you want him done?" Cyril asks.  
"I want to do him myself. Remember what Schillinger did to Alexander Vogel? I thought about  
something similar."

Ryan looks up at their work, laughing.  
"Wow, that's almost poetic."

"Did you hear the news?"  
"What is it?" Chris asks Busmalis.  
"They found Metzger in the gym. Naked, hanging from the ceiling. His dick cut off and shoved  
down his throat and a huge swastika burned into his chest."  
It makes Chris wonder what Toby has in store for him.

"Beecher, is that your work out there?" McManus asks, looking at him grave and disappointed.  
"Why would I do anything to him? I didn't know he was a Nazi."  
"Took he part in the attack on you?"  
"No, it was just Schillinger and Keller." Toby makes it sound like he's outraged by the lack of  
trust towards him.  
"Alright..."  
Poor, innocent, trusting McManus. He would never learn. Toby turns around once more before  
leaving the office.  
"Trust me, McManus. If it had been me, Schillinger would have been dangling there."

************ 

Said and Toby see each other for the first time since he's returned from the infirmary.  
"Assam Alleikum, my brother."  
"Alleikum Ah-salam."  
They pull each other in a heartfelt embrace.  
"What's going on with you and Hamid?"  
"I've got it under control."

************

When Chris gets into the shower, Toby is alone there, his cane leaned against the wall. He  
doesn't need it as much now. It has become more of a symbol of his continuing grudge. When  
he hears Chris enter, he turns around unhurried, gives him a dismissive glance and continues  
showering. Chris can't but watch. Toby displays himself leisurely in front of him. He shows  
him what he'll have never again. When he's finished he walks past Chris closely, nearly brushing  
against him. And Chris can't look away. Toby's eyes are cold. While his whole body language  
speaks of ease and indifference, his eyes tell of the depth of the hurt Toby feels. Toby's eyes tell  
him that he's got nothing to expect from him, except punishment. He will take it, he'd do anything  
if only Toby would take him back. But he remembers well how reserved and guarded Toby had  
been when he met him. Toby didn't expect anything good from anyone. He was always careful  
not to let anyone close, except the O'Reilys and his family. The only things he expected from  
other people were hurt and deception. And after painstakingly breaking through Toby's defenses  
he'd done the one thing, Toby had been afraid of. And the hell, Toby would let anyone, least of  
all him, get close to him again. He had known it would be a close call towards the end of  
Operation-Toby. But he'd thought he could still get away. And after it had been too late, he'd  
entertained the foolish hope, that Toby would eventually forgive him. It seems more unlikely  
with every passing day. Though that is no reason for Chris to give up. But where getting to  
Toby the first time had been like dancing around a cobra, this time would be more like sticking  
your head into a lions mouth, after you've cut his tail off.  
Toby catches his gaze for a moment, judging Chris' expression that is openly full of craving,  
before the corner of his lips turns up into a lazy smile, oozing disgust. Then he is past Chris.

************

"Hey! Beecher! O'Reily!" Mineo calls, "Not you," he waves Cyril away, "The other O'Reily.  
McManus wants to talk to you."  
There is a new hack in McManus' office when they enter.  
"Alright, this is Sean Murphy the new supervising officer of Em City. He will be replacing-"  
McManus coughs, uncomfortably. "...Metzger."  
Murphy addresses them himself then, "I know there's been trouble recently. But Tim tells me  
you guys are reasonable, so I want to make this clear. Don't start any shit and we won't have  
any problems. No one needs his day to be harder than necessary."  
"I agree." Toby answers, not considering for a second to change his plans.  
"Very well, gentlemen, that was all."

Toby and Ryan walk down the stairs to the main area.  
"I think he's going to be cool. Black Irish, friend of McManus, what more do you need?"  
"Would be better if we had Whittlesey back, but whatever." Toby shrugs.

************

Chris watches several members of Em City, who aren't in the same gang, standing around a table,  
talking excitedly, exchanging money. When he approaches he gets sneers and laughter.  
Toby stops by the table beside Chris.  
"You like it?" he asks.  
"What is this?" Chris hates not knowing what's going on, feeling stupid.  
"Oh, just a little poll I organized. People are voting on the way I'm going to kill you. I think  
currently money's on you choking on your balls." Toby laughs brightly and walks on.

************

"I'm deeply worried about the change in Beecher's behavior." Said tells Ryan. "You can't tell me  
you haven't noticed. You call yourself his friend, this should concern you too."  
"What do you mean?" Ryan asks, "He's just taking revenge. That's what men do."  
"It's more than that, he's had a complete change of character. And we as his friends should help  
him on his way back to himself."  
"I'm perfectly alright with Beecher the way he is."  
Said just shakes his head in regret and disappointment, before leaving Ryan standing there.

************

Said just comes back from the visitor's room. By the dark looks the Muslims are sending him, Toby  
can tell who the visitor was.  
"How's Tricia?" Toby asks, when Said takes the seat beside him.  
"She's fine, thank you." He keeps his grave expression. "I came to talk about something else."  
Toby looks at him, expectantly.  
"Beecher, I think you should consider this a wake-up call. To refrain from the path you've been  
choosing. You don't have to go back to your dealings with O'Reily. You can leave all this behind  
and start again with a clean soul."  
Toby looks incredulous now.  
"Said, my soul will never be clean again, no matter what I do now. And you are, after all, benefitting  
from my status too."  
"I hope you will see the fault in those thoughts eventually. At least don't repeat your mistake  
with Keller."  
"Repeat?! Why would I ever do that? My only goal is to give him the most painful and humiliating  
death I can come up with."  
"As long as you can't let go of hateful thoughts like this, you haven't found closure -"  
"Are you insinuating that I still have feelings for him?" Toby realizes his voice has gotten louder.  
Said isn't the person he should yell at, in contrary to most others, he actually really only wants  
to help.  
"Nothing will ever come from hate." Said says very calm and very insistent. "Nothing will ever stem  
from revenge. Except hurt."  
"Hurt is exactly what I'm aiming for." Toby answers between clenched teeth.

************

"I love you."  
"You broke my arms."  
"I love you." more urgently this time.  
"And I want to believe it." Toby starts, caressing Chris' cheek. "I want to believe all that beautiful  
trash you're talking. But.." his hand moves down to Chris throat, thumb brushing over his adam's  
apple. "I didn't survive this long, by making the same mistake twice."  
The pressure on Chris' throat increases, while Toby continues to speak.  
"Schillinger's going to wish, he'd killed me that day. And you..," he smiles sickeningly sweet. "...you  
are going to wish you'd died that day."

************

"Miguel, can I talk to you for a moment?" Gloria asks.  
"Sure." He follows her into the separated part of the room containing her office.

"What did she want?" Ryan asks later.  
"Oh, just said that there's a new healthcare-contract with some Weigert Company.  
Had to look at some new rules for my work in the infirmary. They feel like restructuring everything  
to show who's boss now." Miguel shrugs.

************

"You know what went on between us, right?"  
"I know that Tobias was in love with you and that you broke his arms and legs."  
"When you put it like this, you make me sound so cold."  
"So why don't you rephrase it so that you come out the hero."  
"I know that what I did was wrong. I want to make it up to him."  
"I don't know if there is something you can do for Tobias that would make him forgive you, nor if  
you deserve forgiveness."  
"Now, Sister, that's not a very Christian attitude." Chris smiles endearingly. "I love him. Truly.  
I want his forgiveness."  
"I'm not sure whether your wish is sincere." Sister Pete says, one eyebrow raised disapprovingly.  
"I am. I've never been more sincere in my life. He trusts you. Despite everything that's changed  
in his life since he got here, you're the one constant."  
"Why should I help you?" Sister Pete asks, being intrigued by this manipulative, dangerously  
charming man in front of her. She's known a lot of sociopaths in her career. She could see right  
through them. But here, after she'd been sure she'd seen everything, she finds herself close  
to tripping into a carefully woven net.  
"Because I'm good for him."  
And she knows what he means. As dangerous and destructive as Chris Keller has proven himself,  
he had an incredible impact on Tobias. He'd brought out more of the Tobias Beecher that is  
still lurking underneath the surface. Not the weak upper-class lawyer, not the hard, seen-it-all  
hotshot. But the underdog, who had learned how the game worked, but is still compassionate.  
Who doesn't enjoy violence but sees the necessity for it. The man that would, every night, cry out  
in agony, he couldn't show at day.  
She might as well see where it goes. He's made her curious.  
"So what do you think I can do for you. Tobias pretty much makes his mind up on his own."  
"You got this victim-offender program, right? Convince him to sign up. Tell him it would look good  
on his parole hearing."

Toby is still laughing when he's left Sister Pete's office. Victim-offender program. He isn't  
a victim. Hasn't been for a long time. Chris hasn't understood that he is going to be the victim.  
But hell, he'll do it, anything to get paroled quicker.

************

"There's going to be a boxing match!" Cyril sounds excited like a little kid, when he tells them.  
"Awesome!" Miguel chimes in, a little too cheerful.  
Even Ryan's face lights up immediately.  
"Beecher," he turns to Toby, "time to introduce you to the fine art of betting."

************

"I have nothing to say."  
"Tobias, the point of this is for you to voice your feelings on the past events. To express fears..."  
She corrects herself fast, when she sees the look on Toby's face. "anger, whatever it is you feel  
about it, this is supposed to be a forum, an opportunity." she turns towards Chris. "You too,  
whatever you want to tell Toby."  
"I'm sorry."  
Toby laughs out. Loudly. Harshly.  
"Really? That's it, that's the big plan? You make Sister Pete drag me into this program to tell me  
you're sorry? By all means, you could have told me that in passing by. Or maybe," he adds  
with a smile. "Before I cut your tongue out to have you choke on your own blood."  
"Tobias!" Sister Pete looks at him, shocked.  
"What sister? Am I not to voice whatever feelings I have towards, Chris-to-pher? I feel an urge  
to kill that's so strong it stops me from sleeping some nights. I fantasize about it all day. Damn,  
I could jerk off to the thought of you dying under pains even your twisted mind couldn't think  
up."  
Toby's face has turned into a snarl, while he's leaned even closer to Chris, over the table that  
is separating them.  
"Are you feeling better now?" Chris asks.  
"Not yet." Toby answers, the threat practically physically hovering inside the room.  
"Thoughts of revenge and violent fantasies, are quite common in the aftermath of a violent  
impact." Sister Pete tries to take control of the conversation again. "One has to deal with the  
experience of being helpless. The concentration on retaliating the experienced violence helps  
to regain a feeling of control over ones life. This is a good thing. A productive reaction. But  
only to a healthy degree. Concentrating on the past event, not letting go, won't help you to move  
on and you just keep hurting."  
"I'm not feeling helpless." Toby says, very calm, very pronounced. Sister Pete realizes that she's  
never before been on the receiving end of Toby's anger. And it occurs to her that she's never really  
considered how dangerous he is.  
"I haven't been helpless, I've only been in a temporary state, that was beyond my control."

************

"Miguel, you're coming to breakfast?" Ryan asks, already at the door of their pod.  
"No, I think I'll go straight to the gym. Need to spend some time on my footwork, so I can kick  
your brother's ass."  
"Okay." Ryan shrugs.  
Once he's left, Miguel let's himself fall back onto his bunk, pulling the pillow over his head.

************

The situation in OZ is tense. With open war between the Irish and Aryans ready to erupt any day  
now. Toby is practically pulsing with rage wherever he goes.  
Right now Toby and Ryan have enough of work at hand with reestablishing their spot among the  
top three. The Latinos they have under control through Miguel, but there is always some  
ambitious guy among them, that is just looking for an opportunity to take over the gang and  
get back into the tits-trade. And Pancamo and Adebisi would only be too happy to share the  
territory between just the two of them. While Ryan and Adebisi still get along relatively well,  
things between Adebisi and Toby are far from jovial.  
To Chris all this doesn't matter. He doesn't care about Toby's position here, as long as he is with  
him. But he isn't. And it hurts like a bitch. He watches him all day and when their eyes meet  
Toby's say that he wants to kill him, but there is something else too and it isn't just  
wishful thinking on Chris' part.  
To make things even more shaky, there's been an fallout between the Muslims and Said. Most  
people with two eyes to call their own have seen it coming. McManus watches it with wariness,  
knowing quite well that with this, the balance is one step closer to mayhem. Some of the  
leaders watch it with glee, seeing an opportunity. For revenge. For extending their influences.  
The only one who's followed Said into exile, is Jefferson Keane. And there are a lot of  
people who still have some scores to settle with him.  
But whoever would have liked to get either of them out of the picture, will have to leave  
empty handed, because the moment Said and Keane lost their people, Toby took them in. And these  
days Toby is out for blood on the daily. Killing someone who'd tried to harm someone under his  
protection would be a nice distraction while plotting the inevitable downfall of Schillinger.  
Funny enough, it is the Muslims themselves who seem to have the biggest problem with it. To  
them it is a big affront that Said and Keane aren't desperate to get back into their good graces.  
Things haven't gone as Khan expected them. Said hasn't come crawling back, but happily keeps  
meeting his girlfriend. There is talk about engagement even. "Time to bring back conjugals," was  
all Ryan said to that. Said is undermining Khan's authority with every step he takes. People don't  
respect him as they did Said and the two outcasts are celebrating their religion as ever, outside  
their flock. Just the two of them praying in the main hall under the watchful eyes of Toby's men.  
Sometimes these days Toby would even join them. Ryan isn't the religious type himself even so he  
feels hurt by the fact that in times like this Said seems more able to help Toby than he is.  
The rest of Em City's population doesn't give three shits. After breaking the biggest tabboo in  
prison by going openly gay, becoming a Muslim, while officially belonging to the Irish isn't  
that shocking anymore. Beecher is crazy. Everyone knows. Some talk bad about him behind his back.  
Some are amused. Some wish they had his guts.

Said and Keane's attempts to save Toby's immortal soul have been unsuccessful so far, even though  
they did manage to convert Toby.  
Toby isn't thinking about stepping down from his place at the top of his very own kingdom.

************

"Fuck, Beecher." Ryan lets out a sigh. "I wish I could help you, man."  
"What's there to help? You helped enough. Not kicking me to the curb after my incredible fuck-up was more  
than I deserved." Toby shoots back, angrily.  
Ryan realises once more that Toby is the harshest and unforgiving on himself.  
"It wasn't your fault. I didn't see it coming either."  
"Yeah, that's something coming from you, sure enough." Toby's laugh is dry and brittle.  
"You have to get over it. You have to stop dragging it around with you." Ryan insists. "If you can't finish it,  
get over it."  
"I'm going to finish it. At my pace." Toby falls silent, caught in thought. "If I was still in love with him,  
something would be seriously wrong with me."  
"I think we all agree, something's been seriously wrong with you to begin with." Ryan answers, drily.

************

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" Ryan asks, exasperation hiding his worry.  
"Just having a shit time. No worries." Miguel answers, trying to walk away. Ryan's hand  
on his arm stops him.  
"What do you mean shit time? You skip meals. You sleep nearly all day. And when you're  
not sleeping you bury yourself in training that borders on obessessive."  
"I'm just trying to stay fit for the match."  
"I might not be particularly interested in the particularies of boxing, but even I can tell  
you're full of shit."  
Miguel averts his eyes, his face losing the stubborn line.  
"I've been taken off my medication." He then says, softly.  
"What do you mean they've taken you off your medication?"  
Miguel shrugs, knowing that the calm he is still feeling won't last much longer.  
"The Weigert Company says they don't have the money."

"Gloria! What the fuck is up with Alvarez' medication?"  
"Ryan, I can do absolutely nothing about this, I might even get fired."

Ryan stops outside the door when hears them talking. He only catches the end of the conversation.  
"You realise that Miguel Alvarez has suicidal tendencies?" Gloria tells Garvey. "His  
condition has already deteriorated since we took him off."  
"Well, maybe it's for the best." Garvey answers.  
"Asshole!"  
He hears the clank of a chair, someone's getting up fast. He moves away from the door and makes his  
way back to Em City. Garvey is dead.

"Don't worry, Ryan. I'll pull myself together." Miguel tells him later. "It'll take some  
time, but I'll manage."

True to his word, Miguel stops skipping meals and starts spending time with the others again, outside  
his pod.  
Nevertheless Ryan feels like he's failed him. But for now, Ryan realises that there's  
not much he can do. Of course he can put a hit on Garvey, but that won't change their  
conditions in here.

************

It is almost masochistic, but it is the kind of punishment he deserves for being weak. So he will learn  
the lesson for good.  
Toby looks almost conversationally, when he leans forward, closer to Chris, still talking loud enough for  
the Sister to understand every word.  
"Do you have even the slightest idea, what it took me to trust you, to let you that close?"  
"Yeah, I do." Chris' voice sounds chafed, if it was possible for a voice to sound like that and on his face  
is, what Toby considers a flawless imitation of deepest shame and regret. No, he is only fooling himself.  
He knows that Chris isn't acting. That makes it so much worse. He knows Chris means every single word. It  
makes no sense, not any of it, but Toby knows it to be true. And it is the only reason Chris is still alive.  
"Do you feel ashamed about your actions?" Toby ask with the encouraging curiosity of a teacher asking  
for students' opinions.  
"I do."  
Toby barely waits for his answer, before he continues.  
"Do you know what shame feels like? Can you imagine lying in a hospital bed with your arms and legs broken,  
because you were stupid? That is what shame feels like!" He finishes with finality.  
Sister Peter Marie just watches the exchange, unable to intervene and stir it back to safer territories.

************

"I'll do it."  
Toby's head goes up, surprised, when Cyril slumps into the chair beside him.  
"Do what?"  
"Finish the Keller-Business." Cyril shrugs.  
"No!"  
"Man, making fun things last is fine and everything, but you've drawn it out long enough. It's your position  
on the line here. We have to look out for you, if you're unable to."  
Toby's face goes cold.  
"I gave orders. Those orders haven't changed."  
Cyril takes a long-drawn breath, but doesn't say anything more.

************

"Sister, do you really think you're helping him?"  
"What do you mean, Chris?" She can tell by his charming grin and the way he looks, like he's  
genuinely interested in what she has to say, that she's not going to like what he's got to tell.  
"Reminding a man of his humanity, in here. That's the worst you can do to him. You make him a  
victim that way."  
"You're not in here to get worse than you were before."  
"Why is it then, Sister, that we do?"

************

Ryan knows the signs. Has seen them often enough. On occasion in the mirror. So he can't really  
tell, why it took him so long. Except maybe for the fact that Miguel knows the signs too.  
"What the fuck! Miguel are you high?!" Ryan asks, incredulous.  
"What else am I supposed to do?" Miguel answers, eyes glazed over.  
Ryan doesn't know whether to get angry or feel like it's his own fault. He's always the smart one,  
isn't he? And he didn't see this outcome. Even though, it is pretty much obvious now, that it  
would come to this. But Ryan isn't a psychiatrist, he can talk to Miguel, but that doesn't mean  
that he knows. Really knows what's going on inside Miguel. He thought going off the meds would be  
like, maybe cold turkey.

"Mate, we have a problem." Ryan pulls Toby to the side. "Miguel's doing drugs."

"There has to be something we can do!" Toby urges Dr. Nathan. "It worked with Ryan's  
treatment back then. Why not now?!"  
"I can't help you, Beecher. I'm only here today to clear my desk."

Talking to him, doesn't change things. So after a while, they drag him off to support group.  
It's incredibly shitty timing, to have such a weakness in their lines, but when was timing  
ever good.

************

Between keeping their kingdom together and trying to get Miguel through rehab, there's still the  
Chris-matter. And it won't go away, just because Toby doesn't mention it anylonger. In Oz things  
like this aren't forgotten. And debts have always to be paid.

"You know there can be no other payment than death for this kind of betrayal, right, brother?" Ryan  
looks at Toby beseechingly.  
"Yes, of course." Toby looks almost serene, like all this hasn't had them sweating over the past  
months.  
And Ryan knows, 'Yes, of course.' means 'No. Not at all.'  
"My own fault for shacking up with a fucking nut-job." Ryan mumbles while walking away.

************

"You are nothing to me."  
"I'm everything to you."  
"I'm going to kill you slowly."  
"You sure talk a lot about that." Chris answers, casually. He has to play this carefully. He needs  
to push to get through to Toby, but he can't push too far, or Toby might feel compelled to  
make a rash spur of the moment decision that he would regret later (not as much as Chris would  
regret it though).  
"We both know what you deserve for what you did to me. And you know I like to settle my bills."  
"But I'm not dead."  
"No, you're not."  
They're both aware of the meaning once he's said it. The reason Toby can't kill Chris. But it's not  
going to make anything better. Toby refuses to hurt like that ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	9. MERCY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby has decided to spare Chris' life, nothing more has to be said on that matter.  
> Chris isn't willing to settle with this conclusion to things. And then Toby is presented with the ultimate chance to take revenge on Schillinger. It seems nearly too easy.  
> Meanwhile Miguel is slipping further from Ryan's grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my dears, here comes the new chapter (this time after only five months^^° I'm sorry).
> 
> The second half of season 3, this time with a lot of Ryan/Miguel angst (and of course the usual Toby/Chris angst^^).
> 
> Oh, by the way, a funny piece of trivia for you: Over ten years after the ending of the show, the series is finally available as a DVD in German.
> 
> Sorry, also for the weird line length at times (still dealing with editor-switching fallout).

We're all in our private traps  
Clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out

Sometimes we deliberately step into those traps

I was born in mine; I don't mind it anymore

Oh but you should, you should mind it

Oh I do, but I say I don't

(No Angels - Bastille)

**************************

"You're not going to do it, are you?" Ryan asks.  
"You knew it. I knew it. I just couldn't admit it until now."  
"Toby, it could go quietly. You didn't even have to see it. It would be over quickly."  
"Ryan, don't you hurt Chris. You hurt Chris and I might have to hurt you."

**************************

What exactly does it make him that he can't kill Chris. Weak? Sure. Pathetic? Oh yes.  
But bottom-line, does it really matter what the other's think of him? It should matter  
what he thinks of himself. And so far he is pretty much okay with his decision. He's agonized  
over it for long enough. And he's willing to make this concession to himself and end  
the chapter 'Chris Keller' once and for all.

**************************

It is torture for Chris. Only being able to watch Toby from afar. ~Look at me! Look at me!  
Please, look at me, just once!~  
This is worse than the hateful looks and the death threats. Now that Toby has decided he  
isn't going to kill him. He doesn't even acknowledge his existence any longer. He doesn't want  
and doesn't need his help to deal with Schillinger.  
He needs to become necessary to Toby again. Though, actually he has more important problems  
to attend to, right now. The Aryans want him dead. But he can't seem to care right now.  
He can take care of himself. What is his physical integrity compared to...Toby. And he's  
not going to die. That's for sure. Maybe dying to protect Toby... but no, what use is  
Toby's forgiveness if he's not there to participate from it. He's going to make sure  
they are both still there.

**************************

Toby watches him. He hides it, but he never stops. He has his eyes and ears around OZ keep  
him updated on anything the Aryans are plotting. He's also convinced McManus to leave Chris  
in Em City because he would get killed in Unit B.  
He has decided not to kill Chris and he won't let anyone else.  
Chris is the walking reminder of his weakness, now more than ever. He had so many  
colorful ideas of how to end Chris, when he was in the infirmary. Those first nights, he fell  
asleep to the image of his hands closing around Chris' throat.  
But, Chris...damn him. Now he isn't sure of anything any longer. This chapter turns out to be  
a long way from closing. But he can't let himself be fooled again. The image of him ever being  
in such a situation again, being that vulnerable again, makes him want to throw up. He's no  
one's bitch anymore. He's a man and he's going to deal with this without ruining everything  
he built. Funny, to think of all this as being what he built, when he's practically ruined  
his entire life before he got here.

**************************

"Looks like, you slowly have more enemies than you can handle, huh, Beecher?" Schillinger sits  
down on the empty seat beside Toby. He starts counting with his fingers. "Let me think, the  
Homeboys want you dead, because you stabbed Adebisi. The Italians want you dead, because you  
killed Nappa. And I want you dead, just because." Schillinger shrugs, with a self-satisfied  
smirk. "And then there's of course your boyfriend. Whoops, still a sore topic, I see."  
He gets up and swaggers away again. If he thinks that's the end of it he's wrong. Toby get's  
up too and follows him, catching up with him quickly. He looks at Schillinger long and contemplatingly.  
"You're right, Vern. You on the other hand. You, no one wants dead, not even I. You're just  
not important enough. Enjoy your meal, boys!" He tells the other Aryans sitting around the table.

**************************

"Kareem, you still got these contacts to the media, don't you?"

Toby dials the number and waits until there's a reply on the other side.  
"How would you like a report on criminal neglect of mentally ill prisoners?"  
There's silence on the other side. Finally there's an answer.  
"It will be hard to garner sympathy for that by the audience. We're talking about maximum security  
prisoner's here."  
"We're talking about basic human rights here."  
"I'm talking about tax-payers money."  
"How would you like a personal interview about a upper-class lawyer, who turned from a sex-slave  
to the leader in drug-trade in a maximum security prison. It's a bundle offer. You want one, you  
take both."  
"Agreed."

**************************

"Are you insane?" Ryan whispers, outraged. "You can't spill the beans! They're going to kill you!"  
"On the first account, guilty as charged, I guess. Aside from that, I'm a lawyer, I never spill all  
the beans. You told me to do something. Well, I'm doing something." Toby meets Ryan's gaze steadily  
and mercilessly. They both know why Toby is doing this. "I'm not going to give them something they'll  
be able to sell. But nothing they'll be able to use against any of us."

The headline flickers on, on the TV screen. Then the camera zooms in on the reporter and Toby sitting  
across from each other.  
"So, you admit that there's a flourishing drug-traffic inside our state prisons?"  
"Absolutely."  
"What are the authorities doing against that?"  
"Not enough. But at least more than they do against rape inside prisons."  
"You're talking from the perspective of one of these victims?"  
"Yes, I do."  
"How are these drugs getting in?"  
"How would you get them in?" Toby asks with a charming smile.  
"Is it true that you are working together with one Charles Pancamo, who's connected to organized crime?"  
"He is a fellow inmate."  
The interviewer gives him an annoyed glance and tries a different angle.  
"Well, has your assailant ever been charged for his crimes?"  
"No, there is no support at all in our state prisons for the investigations of such crimes. Usually  
it is recommended to keep quiet about it." Toby can understand why they would try to, despite having  
told them exactly what he would talk about.  
"So, you identify yourself as a gay man by now and where also in a relationship with a fellow inmate?"  
Toby smiles at the camera. "I wouldn't exactly identify myself as gay, I was married as you know, but,  
yes, I was in a relationship with another man in this prison."  
"How does that work with you being in the drug-trade?"  
"I'm not in the drug-trade." Toby is still smiling.  
"Alright," the interviewer looks slightly pissed-off by now. "how does that work with you leading one  
of the major gangs inside the Ozwald State Correctional Facility? Who are at that not known to be  
exactly tolerant."  
"It works like at any other place in the world. You're stronger, you survive."

"What the hell was that?!" There isn't even a real meeting. They just accumulate in one of Em City's  
corners.  
"I acted in the interest of our all healthcare." Toby states, without hiding a satisfied smirk.  
"You've become a little bit too cocky, Beecher." Adebisi declares, mouth curled in disgust. "You  
better be careful."  
"Thanks for the advice, Simon. But I think we all know each other long enough to know that I wouldn't  
be stupid enough to incriminate either of us." Toby's gaze has become solemn, yet fierce. "It don't  
want bad blood."  
"No one wants that." Pancamo agrees. "But not again, Beecher. You understand? No more stunts without  
hearing our vote on it."  
"Agreed."

The next day the article about the Weigert Company gets out. At the same time an anonimously paid  
lawyer sues the company on behalf of a human rights group.

They get rid of the Weigert Company. Miguel gets his meds again. Glynn is fuming and short of vowing  
revenge and a feud over generations.

**************************

Miguel can't begin to describe the substantial amount of relief he feels when he takes the first dose of  
his meds again. Everything's going to be okay now. Ryan doesn't ever have to know that he'd been doing  
drugs all along, going to rehab, lying to his face. It had been easy to blame fatigue or jitters on the  
lack of medication. And maybe Ryan hadn't been looking close enough. Whether he deemed his order impervious  
to noncompliance or just had been too busy with other things is anyone's guess.

**************************

Jefferson Keane who works with Said at the new arrivals, tells him. Of course not Said, Said knows exactly what Toby would do with that kind of knowledge.  
And Toby too knows exactly what to do with that knowledge. Andy Schillinger is just as bad as his father, and it will do some guy, who will get here in a few years, plenty good not to have to deal with a younger version of Vern Schillinger.  
And the beauty of the plan is that he isn't even going to kill Andrew himself. He'll make Schillinger kill his own blood and flesh, just as Schillinger made Toby kill what was still human inside himself.

**************************

"Put Andrew Schillinger in one pod with me."  
"No." McManus answers.  
"I'm not going to hurt him. I feel sorry for the kid. I now what he's going through. I can help  
him." Toby argues.  
"How stupid do you think I am?"

Later that day Andrew Schillinger is led to Chris' pod. McManus maybe thought that  
given the various enmities and alliances and the limitation of pods that he's picked the lesser  
evil, but actually he's just played into Chris' hands.

"Really?" Cyril whistles disbelievingly. "Is McManus really that stupid?"  
Ryan and Cyril aren't the only ones who watch Andy Schillinger moving in and Tobias Beecher  
moving out of Chris Keller's pod.  
"When are we going to get him, finally?" Cyril asks, the need for blood clear on his tongue.  
"Once Beecher's finally over him." Ryan answers, regarding his best friend with both resignation and  
pity. They both know that day will never come, but there's no need to let Cyril in on that detail.  
"It makes him seem weak to the others."  
"When was the last time you've seen Beecher care about what others think of him?"

**************************

"I know what you're doing." Toby hisses into Chris ear, in the cafeteria, getting in line behind  
him.  
"What am I doing?" Chris asks, turning around to Toby, creating the kind of closeness, that  
makes Toby uneasy.  
"Okay. You are allowed to help me with Andrew Schillinger." Toby concedes grudgingly.  
"Well, thank you very much. That's very noble of you." Chris answers wrily.  
"That doesn't change anything."  
"Of course it doesn't."

**************************

"So, you're that faggot traitor?" Andy asks, when he enters the pod.  
"So, you're Vern's junkie son? He must be so proud." Chris drawls, arms crossed.

**************************

"You are going to get his trust, be his friend, his confidant."  
"Toby, let me tell you one thing. I've run cons before you finished high school. So don't try  
to lecture me on the one thing I know better than anyone else."  
"Oh, yeah." Toby smiles sardonically. "How could I forget."

**************************

"You're high."  
"No, I'm not." Miguel answers, indignated.  
"Are we going to do this?" Ryan answers tiredly. "Are we going to act as if neither of us knows what a drugged-up punk looks like?"  
Miguel stares at him for a while. Then he shrugs, carding his fingers through his hair, palms resting against his forehead. He looks straight at Ryan again.  
"Why exactly is that such a horrible thing? It makes me feel better. And better is something every single cunt in this shithole needs! Hell, you did drugs the first months you were in here. And while you were out too! Why do you think you can make the rules for me?! Because I let you fuck me?! I'm not your bitch, Ryan! And if I want to get high, I'm going to get motherfucking high!"  
Ryan realises that somewhere along the road, he's lost control. Utterly and entirely lost it. He's not in charge and this is far from a game, even though all of Ryan's favorite games were played with human lifes. This spun from bad to worse so fast it's making his head reel. He has principles, he doesn't take weakness and he doesn't let failures weight him down.

**************************

"You know, Toby, I think I'm not that much better than you." When he thinks about the stupid crush he had on Dr. Nathan his first year in Oz. He'd thought back then it was love. Now he knows better. Love doesn't feel good. Love doesn't give you butterflies. Love gives you anguish and a knife in the guts. Love makes you defy all reason and destroys everything you built. Love eats away on you until you've lost everything you ever believed about yourself, until you've betrayed every single principle you had. "You're not the only one who endangers us with stupid decisions."  
"Miguel's using again." Toby states with the long-suffering resignation of a parent watching his child slip away.  
"God alone knows for how long. He's still been going to the meetings. He's taken his meds. I didn't see it. You know what he told me, when I asked him? He said the meds weren't enough anymore. He doesn't want to get clean. Miguel has become a liability. We have to take him out of every deal we're currently running. We can't trust a junkie. He might sell us for his next hit."  
"That's going to be difficult and it's going to weaken us. Considerably. You know that."  
"Yes. Yes! I thought about it before I came here," Ryan sighs, covering his face with his hands. "Shit, I'm not that kind of guy. I don't do shit like that. I don't do risks for love. I don't do risks in general. We both know that we'd need to take Miguel out now. Aren't you going to give me talk about the tables turning now?"  
"I think I can spare us both the bad acting of me pretending to actually intend to harm Miguel."  
"I don't deserve a friend like you."  
"I'll remind you of it the next time you accuse me of trying to ruin our livelihood."

**************************

Since they're given up the hope of being able to deal with this on their own, or Miguel getting a grip on himself, they've come up with a new plan. So he's giving an official warning at the next meeting, that he'll consider it a personal offense, if anyone is going to continue selling tits to one of his lieutenants.

"Fuck you, Ryan. FUCK. YOU."  
"I'm doing this for you."

**************************

Chris watches as Andy Schillinger gets rebuffed by yet another white dealer in Oz. Leisurely he  
walks up to the kid.  
"How's it going, Junior?"  
"Fuck off, prag!"  
"Ouch," Chris laughs heartily. "Do you even know what that means?" He asks helpfully.  
The need for drugs wins the battle over the need to antagonize Chris, as the boy turns to him  
more confidentially now.  
"Hey, do you know someone I can buy from here?"  
"Sure enough," Chris smiles, pointing at Poet. "Have fun buying from the Homeboys. The Irish  
won't sell you shit."  
Now the kid looks seriously annoyed. "Wha- Why?!"  
"Your daddy has trouble with the Irish leaders. Lots of bad blood."  
"Come on, seriously! I need that stuff!"  
"Get a prescription from the doc then," Chris shrugs. "What are you going to pay with anyway?  
You're ass?"

**************************

Ryan gets up to go to the next meeting with the other leaders. Miguel gets up to follow too.  
"No, Miguel, you're not coming."  
"What do you mean?" Miguel asks nonplussed.  
"You made your bed, now lie in it. You didn't really think you were still trustworthy like  
this?"  
"Fuck you!"  
"Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately."

Ryan can't take chances. He never did. His way goes up, always up, you'll always be higher  
than the rest, if you stand on their corpses.

"Who's supposed to replace Miguel?"  
"Guerra?"  
"Are you fucking kidding me? Chico Guerra?"  
"We have no one else. We can't have an Irish lead the Latinos."  
"There's this new guy coming to Oz," Cyril speaks up. "Enrique Morales. He's got a good name  
on the street. Could be our man."  
"Arrange a meeting then." Toby approves.

**************************

Toby corners him on his way to work detail.  
"That's not what I define as getting closer." He says, the hushed volume of his voice not hiding  
his anger. "This morning didn't look like good chums to me."  
"Babe, even that boy isn't stupid enough to believe it if I came onto him all friendly all of a  
sudden." Chris retorts patronizingly.  
"What did you just call me?" Toby's voice sinks about thirty degree.  
"I don't know, what did it sound like?" Chris answers, smilingly. Winding up Toby is a kick it's  
hard to resist these days, since it's the only reaction he can still get.  
"You better have some results to show for soon." Toby warns, before he's gone again.  
Chris is astounded by the similarities between this and operation-Toby. Deja-vu. Didn't he just  
hear that line before? Toby would probably snap (maybe even some of Chris' bones) if he pointed  
out how close he's getting to his arch-enemy.

**************************

They don't talk to each other. For days. Ryan hopes that no one is selling Miguel drugs any longer,  
but he can't be sure. Miguel looks like shit, that's for sure.

**************************

They measure each other with looks when they both enter the gym, Toby no longer by himself but  
accompanied by some Irish.  
Chris takes his shirt off, throwing a shit-eating grin at Toby. Toby looks the other way.  
"Hey, Chris," Toby smiles sickeningly sweet. "How about some wrestling?"  
Chris knows Toby won't kill him, but it's surely not beyond him to have his boys break his bones.  
But nothing happens, except for Toby losing more and more of his clothes and keeping closer body  
contact than they had in months. It's clearly not accidental. It gets to Chris just the same.  
Before Toby gets up from atop of him, he cups his face, "That's fucking with someone's mind."

**************************

"Ryan?"  
Ryan turns around, surprised to hear the voice he hasn't heard for days.  
"Yeah."  
"I'm trying to work this out. I really am." Miguel wants to say more, but what can he say without  
sounding like a goddamned pussy? What's he supposed to say? That every day in here is hell? He  
doesn't thrive on all this shit like Ryan and Toby do. He was never made out to be the leader of  
the Latinos. He got into that position more by accident than anything else. Having people who  
want him dead at every corner all the time is not a condition he can deal with on a permanent level.  
They do talk about feelings. Or more precisely they did. In the darkness of their pod. About life  
before Oz.  
Miguel looks at Ryan. He hasn't answered yet. 'Are you breaking up with me?' No, that's nothing he  
could ask.  
Ryan looks at his lover, boyfriend, whatever, the guy who's not his prag, and he doesn't know what  
to say. He feels unreasonably angry. Why the hell can't Miguel keep his shit together. And he's  
not sure if he can believe him that he's trying.  
"I believe it when I see it." He says instead of things like 'You have my full support.' Miguel  
still being alive is testimony to the amount of support he has from Ryan's side.

**************************

The kid's going through serious withdrawal by now. Well, well, Chris would have bet good money on  
him buying from the Homeboys sooner or later. His daddy must be so proud.  
"Jesus, that's what? The third time tonight?" Chris gets up and drags Andy to the toilet before it's  
too late. "There, there." He pats him, half-heartedly.  
Later he manhandles the shuddering, dry-heaving mess back to his bunk.  
"Here, have a drink, you little shit." He hands him a glass of water.  
"Tha- Tha- Thank you."

Ryan watches from his bunk, through the darkness as Chris comforts the retching, younger Schillinger.  
While in his own pod, Miguel is throwing up, going through his own bout of withdrawal. And there's  
nothing Ryan can do to comfort him. The distance already to wide for anything as innocent as comforting  
someone in pain. Because Ryan can't get closer now, when he doesn't trust Miguel and doesn't know if  
he'll fall back or pull through. And at the same time he knows that he too dissappointed Miguel. Trying  
to keep the ball running in all of his games is harder than he thought. And he failed. Because at the  
moment he's staggering, knowing that business is more important than emotions, but unable to pull through  
on it.

**************************

"You think that's going to work?" Toby asks doubtfully, while they meet in the laundry room.  
"Well, there are many, many approaches and roles to play for this kind of game. I'd try to  
woo him if I'd think I would work." Chris waits for Toby to storm out at this comment. But to  
his surprise he stays relatively calm.  
"So, what's this approach supposed to be? Gruffy bastard grudgingly finds his heart because  
little Andy reminds him of his little brother?"  
"Something along those lines. A little less cheesy."  
"Oh, yes, cheesy. That's what it was for me, right? What's the type called you used on me?  
Knight in shining armor for pathetic, affection-starved prag?"  
"That hits the mark pretty closely." Chris answers honestly. And it's probably the honesty in his  
voice devoid of sarcasm that stops Toby from either hitting him or leaving.  
"Hm, I see." Toby answers, pensively, an all-encompassing sadness that doesn't reach the rest  
of his face, taking over his eyes.  
"You weren't a prag though."  
"I didn't come to you for comfort-talk. But it's good to face my mistakes." Toby gives Chris  
a flicker of a smile. "You know what sister Pete did in my first year, while I was still on  
drugs. She made me face my mistake. She made me face Kathy Rockwell's parents, so I would get  
out of my shell of self-pity. I'm doing the same thing now. Only, luckily, this time I only  
ran over myself."  
"I love you." Chris says, because he can't think of anything else. He has all the lines in the  
world at his disposal and he can't bring himself to use one of them. They're all lacking.  
And at the same time this is one of his lines too. He's used it so often. Successfully. Every  
time. Never said without a goal in mind, whether to get into a bank account or pussy. Never  
before said with this soul-crushing desperation behind it.  
Toby seems to think on that for some while, not answering straight away.  
"I guess karma's a bitch. Go back to work, Keller."

**************************

It's not like he can't tell when Chris is trying to press his buttons. It's not like he can't  
evade those situations. Yet, again and again he chooses to meet Chris, to repeat those little  
duels of who can hurt deeper, who can strike harder, mixed with moments of aching honesty and  
almost tenderness.  
Every chance he gets he brings himself back in that situation, like a fucking junkie all over  
again.

**************************

"So, what went down between my dad and that Beecher guy?" Andy asks one night inside their pod.  
"It was mainly your dad's fault."  
"That doesn't surprise me." Andy answers to Chris' definite surprise. "I'm not too hot on my dad  
myself these days."  
Probably not just their differences on the matter of substance-abuse. And there Chris had thought  
this was just another trained, little dog.  
So, Chris begins to tell his story.  
"Do you by now know what a prag is?" He starts.

"Fucking hell!" Andy shakes his head, after having listened raptly to Chris' story. "That guy?  
That guy used to be a prag? How could he get into tits-trade with everybody knowing?!"  
"Got the guts." Chris shrugs. He has really to wonder how this is all news to the kid. But then  
again. He's the only person in here talking to him at all.  
"So... he's an ex-prag, a drug-lord and a faggot? And you're what? His bitch?" Andy sounds more  
intrigued than disgusted by now.  
"Not exactly. I don't know what your father told you, but..."  
"My father told me shit."  
Excellent, there's a lot of resentment there they can build on.

**************************

"You should talk to him." Toby tells him very earnestly.  
"I tried that. Shit, I've been supportive as hell and it didn't do dick! Now I'll see how it goes  
when he's forced to get clean. We both were able to do it! Why isn't he?"  
"People are different. And he's doing what he can."  
Underneath the lack of empathy and the dissappointment, Toby sees fear. Fear for having lost control.  
For being faced with something that's beyond your influence. The same fear all of them know. The fear  
of knowing that Oz is about to take another thing you love away.

**************************

"Time to plan the next step." Chris says with glee, watching Toby's unenthusiastic expression. And  
hell, maybe he's trying to stand a little bit closer to Toby than necessary. "I think you should  
finally meet little Andy."  
"Keep your hands to yourself!" Toby hisses, when Chris 'accidentally' brushes his arm with the back  
of his hand.  
"Whoa, champ," Chris backs off, "don't get your panties all in a twist."

**************************

Ryan stares at Miguel all through the support-group meeting. Trying to assess the state he's in,  
wondering what he could say. Miguel meets his eyes with a questioning frown. 'What do you want?'  
it seems to say. Did they break up, Ryan wonders. Even thinking in those terms makes him feel  
unconcertingly Toby'ish. He doesn't think they have, but maybe Miguel thinks differently.

Chris introduces Andrew to Toby after the drug-counseling meeting.  
"Hello, Mr. Beecher."  
Alright, this kid is a lot more polite than expected. What the hell has Chris told him about him?  
"Call me Toby." Toby replies suavely, smiling warmly. Time to really get things into motion. So  
many similarities. Drug addicts and an huge amount of resentment against Schillinger. Though, Toby  
kinda doubts that Schillinger's already broken his son's arms and legs.  
But on the other hand, who knows? He's considering this man capable of killing his own son, after  
all.

"It's good that you're coming to group." Ryan finally says, as they remain standing awkwardly  
waiting for Toby and the younger Schillinger.  
Miguel just stares at him, as if saying 'Is that seriously all you've got to say to me?!'

**************************

Ryan doesn't see it coming, because seriously, who could be stupid enough to do this? It's one of  
the homeboys. The knife grazes along a rib and then plunges in deep. Then a red line moves across  
the throat of the guy and blood sprays into Ryan's face.  
"How bad?!" Miguel asks, eyes moving frantically, while he kneels down beside him. Then already the  
hacks jump between them, hurling Miguel off. One quick press of their hands is all that's left for  
them.  
That moment it's all easy. It's all there. Clear and easy to understand. That they care and why they  
care. And that everything else is a goddamn waste of time.

McManus rules it self-defense, which of course it was. And Miguel is free to go. The investigation  
of the situation won't get McManus far though. But then Ryan and Toby don't have any more luck.  
The homeboys renounce any knowledge or participation in said operation, of course, saying their man  
acted on his won. Nothing to prove it and the culprit dead, what's left there except to keep the tits  
rolling. The last thing they need right now is a war with a double front. And they'll remember, they'll  
remember until the time comes to strike back.

Ryan gets out of the infirmary, feeling a little wobbly, but not showing it. His people come and pick  
him up, escorting him back to his pod. No risks, now. Miguel's among them.  
"Thanks." Ryan says, once the door falls shut.  
"My pleasure." Miguel answers with a small, tight smile. Just a little twitching of the corner of his  
mouth.  
Ryan reaches out, aborts midway and instead grabs some random item from the sink. Too fast, too early.  
Fucking self-consciousness.  
"Just so you know," Ryan starts to speak. "The business's the business. We are the rest."  
"Yeah? Good," Miguel nods softly, muscles uncoiling a little. "That's good to know."  
Yeah, they understood. They both understood it that moment. Maybe they can move from there on. Or maybe  
they're fucked. Only one way to find out.

**************************

»Operation-Andy« is going according to plan. Chris is building a layer of trust with Andy,  
and has already introduced him to Toby. They are spending time together, playing cards and  
stuff. Andy isn't the problem. The problem is the amount of time Toby has to spend with  
Chris for the plan to succeed. Like now. Chris is standing inside Toby's pod, just to discuss  
further steps in his plan. But leaning too close again. Hand resting beside Toby's head on the  
upper bunk, backing Toby too much against the bedpost he is leaning against.  
"All I want to is just to kiss you once more," he says in that awfully troubled voice. His voice  
dripping with so fucking much emotion, such sincerity, when Toby knows that sincerity is a  
foreign concept to Chris. No one could hurt another person that much and still be able to feel  
like a human being.  
"Yes I can." Chris says with a rueful voice.  
Toby looks at him startled. Has he said that aloud? He is loosing control. Falling to pieces in  
front of Chris is nothing he can afford any longer. So he only laughs harshly, a merciless  
sneer forming at the corners of his mouth.  
"You think I'm not human?" Chris asks with as much resentment as Toby feels. "I was just trying  
to survive!"  
"No, you liked it. You liked to play me, to bury yourself inside my cells like a virus. You got off on  
breaking me. You like hurting people. You're as human as a cockroach."  
"Says the guy, who had another man's face cut just because he was bullshitting about him. I've  
seen what you did to Metzger. Don't tell me you didn't like it."  
"It's not like it was unprovoked. There's nothing wrong with revenge. And for the other guy, you  
know very well what I have to do to secure my position, that had been weakened enough, thanks  
to you."  
"Oh Toby, Toby. You've probably killed more people than I did, by now. So don't flatter yourself to be  
so fucking holy, just because you didn't do it with your own hands. You're as bad as me."  
"I kill because I have to."  
"So do I. Can't you see it? We belong to each other."

**************************

Tentative trust. Careful testing the waters before taking even a step in. They try to talk again, instead of the icy silence that has hung over them for so long now. Nothing much, because yes, the trust was broken. But it's no longer like their not even living in the same pod. There are constant rebuffs from both of them. Be it Miguel trying to involve himself in the biz again and being told off, or Ryan inquiring about Miguel's habit without the intention of starting a fight, but doing so anyway. Only, it's not really a fight, because neither of them comes out of shell far enough to let things get that far. They just close off again. But then, it's better than nothing. At least they're talking again. At least they're both willing to make the effort.

**************************

They get closer again. Almost comfortable. Toby chastises himself the first time he laughs at one of  
Chris' jokes while they're alone. And that's where he knows he should pull the emergency stop. Time  
to get out.  
And he knows. He knows it all. Every crevice of Chris Keller's soulless heart. He knows he can't  
be sure he's not being played again. All he can be sure of is that he has the means to end Chris  
whenever he chooses. But that's been the problem all along, hasn't it? That he doesn't.

**************************

Miguel stands his back leaned against the plexiglas front of their pod. His entire form nothing but  
a shadow pattern. Ryan leans against their bunks beside him.  
"Can I kiss you?"  
"I don't know, can you?"  
Ryan believes he sees something like a smirk through the semi-darkness, before he leans forward.

**************************

Another step of bonding is done, when Toby convinces Andy to come with him to support-group again. Yes,  
he's developing his own talent in acting with this break-through role as supportive, older brother.

**************************

"Is that the person you want to be, Tobias?" Said asks him. "The kind of person who plays with a young boy's life?"  
"Don't act like we are talking about an innocent child or anything. Andy Schillinger's neither a child nor innocent. Neither am I."  
"Are you proud of yourself? Do you feel like you've achieved something?"  
"I sure as hell am!"

**************************

Toby smiles sadly at Chris hopeful/desperate gaze.  
"Chris, can't you see it? I spent eight weeks hating you. Doing nothing but hating you and wishing for your  
death. I don't deny that it's an obsession. As much as I loved you before, I hate you now. And there's nothing  
either of us could do to change it."  
"There has to be." Chris answers without hesitation.  
Toby lets out a laugh.  
"Chris, you can't force life to be the way you want it to be. You can't smash everything and then expect for it to  
built itself up again on its own."  
"I'm not expecting you to do it alone, but us together, we can do it. You still love me!"  
Some weeks ago Toby would have gone berserk at that.  
"Maybe I do, " he shrugs, "Who can tell the difference anyway."

**************************

"Cyril, I need you to win this. We need to send a message to all those fuckers, to deem themselves superior to us, after everything that went down. I concentrated too much on my revenge and let a few things slide, thinking Ryan would take care of it."  
"Didn't plan to lose." Cyril shrugs. "Sorry, Miguelitto," he winks at Miguel.  
"You're going to take part after all?" Ryan asks, doubtfully.  
"Sure." Miguel shrugs.  
"You don't have to proof anything."  
"Yeah, I think I do. But don't worry, it's therapist approved. Sister Pete thinks it's a good idea."

**************************

Toby and his posse walk through the cafeteria, Andrew Schillinger as always among them. Toby feels acutely  
aware of it when they pass the table of the Aryans. He feels Schillinger's gaze tied to him, the moment he  
enters. It is almost in slow motion as he turns his head to watch Schillinger watch him.  
Schillinger is going to pay him back to the last, for every shard of dignity he's lost, every scream, every jolt of  
pain. He is seeing it now, Toby can tell by his face.  
During the meal he stands up and walks over to the Aryans' table.  
"Hey, Vern. Guys." He greets them cheerfully. "How's it going these days?"  
"Fuck off, Beecher."  
"Just a moment, Vern. There's something I wanted to ask you for quite some time." Toby leans closer. "Was it worth  
it? Retrospectively, would you say those minutes in the gym payed off? Because I sure hope they did." An animalistic  
grin spreads over his face. He stretches, before grabbing the apple of Schillinger's tray, taking a bite.  
"You know, Vern, I really do miss sex. Chris' out of question. I think I'm going to ask Andrew."

**************************

"Don't look so worried, O'Reily." Miguel gives Ryan a playful shove. "You know I've been clean for, like forever." Forever being eight weeks.

Ryan watches warily as Miguel goes into the boxing ring. It should be all right, after all Miguel is a sound fighter, no doubt about that. And since Ryan can be sure that he hasn't spiked Miguel's water bottle, there shouldn't be a problem.  
He didn't feel worried during any of Cyril's fights. But then, he probably could have spiked Cyril's water bottle and he would still have won.

The fight is in the third round. Miguel has a cut over his left eye, but it's not bleeding too heavily. While the biker looks pretty worse for wear.  
Suddenly, Miguel just drops to the floor. One of the hacks is beside him after only seconds, feeling his pulse. When he calls for Gloria, Ryan knows something went wrong.

"What the hell is fucking wrong with him, McManus?!" Ryan is slamming his hands on McManus' desk.  
"Tell me you weren't trying to get Alvarez out of your way." McManus looks at him, like he's not yet sure if he's the devil incarnate.  
"Why is it, you never ask Beecher that question?"  
"I ask Beecher that question plenty, but in this case, the only times I ever heard you inquire about the health of a fellow inmate, O'Reily, was in cases you were responsible for said state of health."  
"Hey, I inquired about Beecher too!"  
"And that's the precise reason you weren't allowed to see him back then."  
"Fine, I wasn't trying to get Alvarez out of the way."  
"Not very convincing."  
"Whatever, I'll find out another way!"

And so he does, because word travels fast in Oz, nearly as fast as tits.  
"Overdose?! A fucking overdose?! Which fucking suicidal moron, did sell him shit?!"  
"We'll find out." Toby reassures him.

**************************

It's been a week, when Miguel is transported back from Benchley Memorial. And hells, worries pushed aside, Ryan is going to have a word with him. And it won't be pretty.  
But then of course, since this Oz, fate has another surprise for him in store.  
"What do you mean sent to solitary?!"  
"Get out of my face, O'Reily." Glynn moves away, as an officer moves in to drag Ryan away from him. "He's taking drugs inside this prison, he's going to solitary. That's the way things are."  
"He's mentally ill! He's in no shape to go to solitary!" Then Ryan says something he'd never thought he ever would. "At least send him to psych ward!"  
Glynn only shrugs and walks away.

**************************

"Do something, Beecher!"  
Toby looks at his friend, pained. "I'm not almighty, Ryan. There's nothing I can do. Not that fast anyway."  
"How about you spend some time helping your friends instead of orchestrating your revenge!"  
"You know that I've been doing everything in my power to help Miguel!"  
"You mean in those precious minutes between planning to ruin Schillinger's life?! Do you think you're going to feel less pathetic once you've succeeded? Because you won't!"

Ryan knows he's been unfair, Toby's been at his side through all of this, but right now all he feels is panic and helplessness and it's so much easier to blame Toby than himself.  
For the first time he really realises how helpless he is in here. Everything always worked out for him, for them. No matter how harsh the odds, he got along. Him and Toby, they could cheat their way out of hell. But at the bottom line their survival depends on decisions of a guy like Glynn. Someone who doesn't care about any of them. But one thing Glynn is for sure. Petty. He was still pissed off about what went down with Weigert and Toby's interview. He'd been waiting to fuck them over. In that matter he is just like any other fucker in Oz: Willing to kill someone over something as petty as hurt pride. And now he's gotten his chance.

**************************

"Alright, Ryan. I talked to a lawyer for human rights. He's going to file for Miguel's release from prison. But it's going to take time." Toby talks to Ryan like he's a hysterical teenage girl that's short of freaking any second. "Glynn isn't going to meet us even a eigth of the way on this. We should be able to win this one anyway. But you know, the wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly. Our complaint will probably catch dust on some clerk's dest for a few weeks before a judge has even taken a look at it."  
That's the ugly truth. Ryan knows that. And without Toby's resources and connections their complaint probably would have gone straight to the garbage.

**************************

It's not the time to voice anger or regret over the renewed betrayal, the time for that will come, once he's able to face Miguel again. Instead Ryan uses his pent up energy to search for the dealer who'd been supplying Miguel all along. The fucker is so dead.

Toby keeps a close reign on both his men and his business, but his major focus is still Schillinger.

All this leaves Cyril actually managing the business. Sure Ryan and Toby show up to the meetings. But they're oblivious to nearly everything else.

And Chris? He is just watching. It's interesting to watch. He's never seen Ryan O'Reily lose focus. He'd always pegged Ryan for the kind of guy who'd send his own brother to deathrow if it'd benefits his cause.  
Toby hasn't exactly lost focus. Not at all, but he's fixed on Schillinger. The only threats he's concentrating on are those coming from the Aryans. Hamid Khan's continuing leadership of the Muslims doesn't even seem to register with him any longer. And then there's of course Morales. The new El Norte guy, they brought into their fold to replace Miguel. For now he's keeping it cool, but Chris can tell he's working on taking the Latinos of the leash the Irish keep them on.  
Toby might lose significantly more if doesn't wake up soon. Chris can only hope that Schillinger is going to snap soon, so things can go back to normal. Yes, back to routine.

**************************

"Isn't control a very peculiar concept, Vern?" Toby takes the sink beside Schillinger and starts shaving. "We make ourselves believe that we have all sorts of control in life. Control over our body. Control over our mind. Control over our surrounding. When we have so little control in reality. Over anything, really."  
Schillinger looks at him like he's lost his mind.  
"What do you want, Beecher?"  
Toby just continues, as if he hasn't even heard Schillinger.  
"We define ourselves by the things we can control in life. And most of all we define ourselves about our children. And isn't that the one part of our lives where we believe to have absolute control, when we really have none at all?"  
"If you do anything to my boy, I'll have you killed." Schillinger says between clenched teeth.  
"Do something? To that sweet, innocent, blameless boy? What do you take me for?"  
Toby rinses the remnants of foam from his face and leaves the bathroom, a smile on his face.  
As he walks out, he thinks that it's really just the same for him. Control is slipping from him just as easily and as unexpectedly.

**************************

Chris is alone in the shower when Toby enters. Toby doesn't know how it has happened, but he finds  
himself pressed against the wall tiles, with Chris lips on his. Before he even has a chance to punch  
him or... He isn't even sure what, Chris' face moves away and comes to rest on his shoulder.  
"Fuck." Chris draws a labored breath. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. It was never supposed to turn  
out like this. Fuck my life." Chris looks at him, agonized. "I want my heart back!"  
"So do I." It is probably not what he was supposed to say, but it was heartfelt. Seconds later their lips  
are pressed to each other again, with Toby's hand around the back of Chris' neck, Toby's kiss as desperate  
as it is angry. Emotions matched by Chris. Both clawing and grasping at each other. 'Oh god' is all Toby  
can think, 'Oh god'. He opens his eyes locking them with Chris', which have been open the whole time, as if  
he couldn't stop watching. There is hope in them, frantic and fumbling. It is the wrong emotion. How can  
one look be that wrong? Toby pulls away from Chris' mouth and touch. If he wants to continue hurting for the  
rest of his life, now would be the moment to be weak again.  
Toby punches Chris in the gut and leaves him behind in the shower, trying to sort his own thoughts.  
Things can't go on like this. This is getting out of control. How did things go so incredibly  
wrong? Chris should be dead by now. Dead and buried, as Toby's feelings for him.

**************************

"Given you're own unique character, it's really a surprise you've got such a decent boy."  
Schillinger looked up from sorting the mail.  
"What do you want, Beecher?"  
"See you suffer beyond the imaginable." Toby shrugs, smiling. "What's your boy worth to you?"  
"I'm his father. You'll never manage to turn him against me."  
"I already have."

**************************

It's not that bad. Miguel tells himself in the beginning. He can get through this. Glynn can't keep him in here forever. But then the voice whispers, 'why'. Why shouldn't he keep you here forever? What's stopping him? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He goes into withdrawal. Hours and hours of throwing up and shaking in cold sweat. Countless sleepless nights, he spends in a haze of agony.

**************************

"He doesn't give a shit. Never has."  
"I know. But we don't have to hurt. We don't have to kill ourselves trying to get back at him."  
"I don't understand why you can still be that decent to me, after everything he did to you."  
"We're not our fathers. For better or worse. Maybe it's time for you to choose a new family."  
The words are carefully chosen in advance, nevertheless once he's said them, he isn't feeling like  
having the younger Schillinger's blood, any longer. But things are already set in motion and the  
ball isn't anylonger in Toby's court. He's done his deed. The last act in this drama is going to be  
conducted between the two Schillinger's.

**************************

It hurts to see Chris. It hurts all the time. Seeing him and knowing that he can't trust him, that  
he can't trust him ever again. And forever is a long time as Toby's found out.  
But he wouldn't survive falling for a trick just once more. So, he'd rather be alone than stupid.

He sees Chris swagger through the cafeteria, giving the Aryans a derisive smile. He had graved all  
that. All what Chris is, all that he represents. He wanted to be like him. Maybe he still wants. He  
knows what kind of guy Chris is. He knew that kind of guy from school. The guys who had it all. And  
he's not talking in terms of money. No, the guy who gets the girls, who's good at sports, who walks  
through the world like everyone's there just for his entertainment. And maybe Chris thinks they are.  
Chris certainly thought he was there exclusively for his entertainment.  
But Toby knows another thing about guys like Chris. They are seldomly as cool as they make everyone  
believe. They're fucked-up little pricks, who hide their insecurities under layers of bullshit and  
attitude. And they never get far in live. See exhibit A.

**************************

Ryan comes delivering the food. They catch a glimpse of each other every day. Sometimes a touch of the hand.  
It's not enough. Not nearly. And with everyday that passes, Miguel becomes more sure that there won't be any help for him. Whatever schemes Ryan and Toby might have had. They've reached a dead end. There won't be anyone coming for him. There won't be anyone turning the key in his cell door. He'll stay here. Stay here. Rot here. Disappear here. Gone. Forgotten.

**************************

The calculated showdown between Schillinger and his son comes faster than expected. Schillinger's  
final vain attempt to fix things with his son. Toby relishes in every single emotion on Schillinger's  
face while his son cuts all ties, with his fists.

**************************

Andy looks at the small bag of white powder, feeling the need run through his veins. He doesn't  
even remember opening it, when he's already moved it halfway to his nose.

~~~  
"A present from your father."  
~~~  
"We don't have to hurt because of him."  
~~~

Who is he. His fathers son? And Aryan? An Addict? Just another piece of shit?  
What gave parents the right to beat their children? To control them? To decided who they were? To  
fuck up their lives?

"Fuck you, dad! FUCK YOU!!!"

***************************

Toby feels the guilt on his soul hard. Now that things are set into motion without any chance to stop  
it he feels it again. The pain of having killed an innocent. Sure they are all criminals in here, but  
Andy has never done a thing to him and he condemned him to death. He has used him, used him like a  
pawn, like his life didn't matter. He isn't the one who will kill him, he tries to tell himself, but he  
knows that every single action of his was precisely designed to lead to this point, where Schillinger  
is going to kill his own son.  
He will have to live with this guilt for the rest of his life. He has played with a human life, as if  
he were God, as if it's his prerogative to do so.

Chris walks into his pod. Toby shoots him a hostile look.  
"You don't have to blame yourself for it." Chris says and Toby already wants to punch him for knowing  
exactly what he's been thinking about.  
"Did I say I wanted your comfort?" Toby says icily.  
"Honestly?" Chris sits down on the bunk beside Toby. "You look like you need it."  
"There are a lot things I need, but comfort from you is not among them."  
"You did what you had to."  
"No, I didn't. It was my own idea. I could have done anything, but I chose to make Schillinger kill his  
own son." He turns to face Chris. "And now tell me, where is there redemption for me?"  
"Once you've decided to do something, you should stick to it. Don't question your decisions once they're  
done. It doesn't change anything, it only makes you weak."  
"Oh, do you know a lot about regretting your past decisions?"  
"You know I do."  
"According to your rule, you can justify anything. So, am I just supposed to get worse and worse and let  
fate take it's course, saying it was bound to happen?"  
"Once you've made a step, all you can do is keep going."  
"So, since the day I stood up against Schillinger, this outcome was designated? Or was it even since I hit  
Kathy Rockwell? Since I had my first drink?"  
"I'm not talking about fate or shit. All I'm saying is, from a position like yours, you only come back dead.  
There's not room for backpedalling now."  
"Is that what I'm supposed to say in court in my defense? Is that what I'm supposed to say to God? It was  
inevitable. I didn't have a choice."  
"Sometimes you just don't have a choice."

***************************

Miguel looks at the shank in his hand. The one he managed to smuggle in. He won't need it. There's no one here to attack him. There's no need to ever be afraid again. He's no longer a threat to anyone. He's been erased from the list of names to take account of.  
He traces the razor blade attached to the top of the shank over his skin. No one here to hurt him. No danger. Only himself. He's always been the greatest threat to himself. He puts the shank away again. Pain doesn't solve anything. He tried. But once the pain's gone again, he's still here.  
Another night. He won't see Ryan till breakfast.  
Miguel gets his last hope out of it's hiding place. There's no real need for hiding anything in here. No one comes ever into his cell. No one bothers to check on him. He's dead to the world.  
Miguel looks at his hand, at the little bag with white powder with a pained smile. Should be enough. It had been a hassle to smuggle it in here, having to be afraid of both the hacks and Ryan finding out before it'd reached it's destination. But he managed.

Faintly he hears the commotion start outside. The tap-tap-tap of running feet. The yelling. Then he drifts away.  
It's good, is the last thing he thinks. When morning comes, he won't be here anylonger.

***************************

"We got an OD!"

There's no one who isn't awake sooner or later. No one is going to miss this kind of  
distraction. Inmates are standing at their doors, looking through plexiglas, not  
wanting to miss one second of this. Already betting who it might have been.  
Toby has been awake anyway, waiting for the inevitable.

Schillinger watches them take the body out in a bag.

"How did he get those drugs?!" Glynn demands to know, cursing himself for not having  
gone home already.  
"I have absolutely no idea." Lopresti answers. "How does anything get in here?"  
"Don't smartass me right now!" Glynn shuts him up. "You are going to find out. By the  
end of the week I want an answer!"  
Lopresti only shrugs, knowing very well that they won't have that answer by the end of  
the week, or the end of the next week. And honestly who really gives a shit? He knows  
he doesn't. Glynn doesn't either.

**************************

Ryan, Toby and Cyril make their way to breakfast.  
Schillinger is already sitting at his table, throwing Toby a murderous look.  
Toby can barely get anything down. He hasn't felt this ashamed since the night  
he killed Kathy Rockwell.  
Poet walks past them.  
"Hey, O'Reily. I heard your boyfriend offed himself last night."  
"What do you mean?" Ryan demands.  
"Hey, maybe I'm wrong." Poet shrugs. "Don't shoot the messenger."  
It doesn't even occur to Ryan to think about how Poet knows about him and Miguel. Cold  
dread closes like a vice around his throat. He doesn't believe Poet was wrong. It's  
only the confirmation of a fear Ryan has been carrying around for the past weeks. That  
at one point Miguel would resort to this. He knows him, he knows how unstable... Unstable.  
Such a weak and meaningless word to describe the small step between alive and dead.

**************************

"McManus!" Toby approaches him, radiating urgency. "Who ODd last night?"  
"Who didn't?" McManus snorts, the strain of the short night visible on his face.  
"Who?! I need names!"  
"The information isn't to be disclosed. Sorry, Beecher."

Fuck, Whittlesey isn't on shift today and Murphy doesn't like them that much. There's  
another source of information, but they'll have to wait until Augustus' shift is over.  
The day passes agonizingly slow.

"He wasn't in his cell when I did my breakfast-tour."  
"That doesn't have to mean anything."  
"Are you kidding me?! How is that supposed to mean not exactly what we're both thinking?!"

Finally Augustus returns from his shift in the morgue.

"I guess Carlos won't box tomorrow, then." Cyril comments, after talking to Hill.  
"Then where the hell is Miguel?!"  
"I'm gonna talk to McManus again." Toby decides. His heart beating so hard he can barely  
breath and is afraid his hands are shaking. Not his fault. No blood on his hands. How can  
he be so lucky? Neither Miguel nor Andy are dead. Of course, Miguel's death would have been  
an harder blow than Andy's, but Miguel's death wouldn't have been his fault. But nothing  
happened. Things are going to be okay. He doesn't have to question his entire life, agonizing  
over yet another wrong decision.

"Where is he?"  
"Hospital. He won't be transferred back until he's stable."  
Oh God. That close.

**************************

Miguel is looking pale, but alive. Ryan presses his palm between his own.  
"Why the hell did you do that?"  
"I couldn't take it any longer. Sorry."  
"Damn right, you should be sorry!"

***************************

Andy gets out of the hole three days later.  
"I'm proud of you." Toby picks him up at the gates of Emerald City.  
Andy realizes it means so much more than when his father told him.

It's only a few days later when Andy is seen walking around with a green shamrock covering the  
place on his throat where the swastika used to be.

**************************

"Where're they taking him?!"  
"Psych Ward." Gloria answers matter-of-factly.  
"What? That-"  
"No discussion, O'Reily," McManus stops him. "That's standard procedure for suicidals.  
"All he needs is to settle with his medication back and his ass back into Em City! Fuck!"  
"No, O'Reily. We tried that. It didn't work. He's an addict and he's suicidal. Neither of  
us is equiped to deal with him."

**************************

"You hurt me." Toby says in a choked voice. "You hurt me worse than Schillinger."  
Chris tries to touch Toby, who is standing in front of him, shaking slightly, but he stops  
when Toby looks up at him. His eyes freezing every motion.  
"And now, all there's place left for inside me, is hate."  
"It doesn't have to be like that."  
"Chris, can't you see. You can't make trust return, by snipping your finger."  
"Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith."  
"The last time I did, I broke both arms and legs in the fall."

****************************

Would it make a difference if Chris did something huge for him? Sacrificed himself? Saved him?  
Would it really make anything better? This isn't a matter of give and take. You can't erase  
your debts by paying for them. But isn't that the whole principle of prison?

****************************

"Mr. Beecher."  
"I didn't expect to see you here again."  
She looks at him uncomfortable. Toby lets out a chortle.  
"This must be really weighing on your soul, for you to come here again, Judge."  
"Mr. Beecher, I have thought about this for a long time." Lima fidgets.  
Toby only raises an eyebrow. He realises he doesn't feel as much of the disdain he felt towards  
her the last time.  
"Lady, if it means that much to you, I forgive you. Honestly."  
She looks up at him in surprise, hearing something other than the usual sarcasm in his voice.  
When she speaks again, it's Toby who's caught by surprise.  
"I have managed an arrangement for you, Mr. Beecher. You will be allowed to serve the rest of your  
sentence in a minimum security prison."  
Toby is speechless for a moment, the possibilities flooding down on him. A surrounding where death  
isn't waiting on every corner. Criminals whose worst crimes were tax-evasion. People like him. No  
more fear. No more pain. No more Schillinger.  
"Thank you." He answers heartfelt. "You didn't have to do this."  
"Yes, I did." She answers, gravely.  
Who would he be, arriving there with his scarred, war-hardened body? With his soul that doesn't  
expect anything of anyone anylonger? A place filled with people like him. Only, he isn't like them  
anylonger. Even if he wanted to. Minimum security. Almost like freedom. Leave this fucked up place,  
that brought him nothing but pain. A place where he brought nothing but pain. Would he be able to go  
back to the man he used to be? Would he even be willing? To fit in with the narrow-minded aisle open  
for him to walk where he came from...  
"I accept your apology, but I think I'm where I'm supposed to be."  
There is a gasp from both the judge and McManus.  
And he really is, isn't he? He's changed so much, gone so far. And he isn't finished. With any of them.

**************************

"I should at least shank you." Toby says in a conversational tone, taking the spot beside Chris at the  
railing. "Or at least let the Aryans rape you."  
Chris looks at him in wary surprise.  
"But I won't, because it wouldn't change a thing. And things are as they are. Taking revenge on you wouldn't  
change what you did to me."  
Chris' face falls even further.  
"And it wouldn't change what you still do to me. I am what I am now, by my own decision. But it would be a  
lie to say I love you by my own decision. And I don't know what having some of your blood would change about  
whether to trust you or not. Right now I decide to trust you."

Because everyday he wakes up knowing that Chris is still around is a good day. And even in their worst times,  
he could at least still look at him. And when Chris kisses him, the world sucks a little less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and maybe the next chapter will be only a four month wait! ;D
> 
> By the way, who recognized Toby using one of Chris' lines from season 6?
> 
> hint: "I kill because I have to."
> 
>  
> 
> Please report typos, etc... back to me! ^.^


	10. Fuck is a curse, so is love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the precarious time between Season 3 and the big fallout in Season 4.  
> Chris and Toby are back together.  
> Miguel is still in Psych Ward.  
> Ryan is awaited by some unpleasant surprises.
> 
> Toby and Chris are trying to get to the point they were before things went to shit. And honestly, so is Ryan. But they're all going to learn that breaches of trust are always something you're going to pay for. And we all know that family ties can be broken.
> 
> And yeah, the boxing tournament is finally going to get really started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter! I know I suck, I kept you guys waiting another four months, but at least I'm satisfied with the result (which couldn't be said for a long time). Well, let's say more satisfied than before. So I'm just going to post this chapter now, before it takes my sanity with it.  
> If you encounter errors, be it of grammatical nature or logical, please point it out and I'll fix it over the next days.
> 
> Oh my, this was supposed to be a nice little reprieve-chapter before everything going to shit again and now it has turned out rather trying itself. Well, it's the boys' fault not mine.^^°
> 
> By the way, the tense of the chapters doesn't continually change by the which of the author (yes, it does). No, I just wanted to have Season three written in present tense to make it feel more imminent, to underline the impact it has on Toby. I felt like you could feel more like he's actually just experiencing it, written like that. So, now that we've officially entered Season four, we are back to past tense.

You might leave but you can never shut the door  
Cause when love is pain we just love it more  
The chaos and stress is what we comin' for

So cut me out of your life  
And leave me like class is over  
When the day goes and the night comes  
I'll still be your casanova

(Hoodie Allen - Casanova)

**************************

For once there's trouble they had nothing to do with. The Muslims and Aryans had gotten into a fight in the gym. Hamid Khan had obviously no qualms in combining faith with violence. There's a lockdown. A whole fucking week, stretching over New Year.  
Toby held onto those nights. Peace. Calm. And for once the time to pretend everything is fine. Miguel was still in Psych Ward. And Toby had still no idea how to get him out and if getting him out was even a good idea, no matter what Ryan thought. But for once he had no means to change anything right now. They were on pause. Everything was on pause. And that gave him an incredible sense of security. In this cosmos which was just four walls, him and Chris. If he didn't look outside he could pretend that there was no threat, no rest of the world.

But now their time was up. There's the telltale sound and the doors were open again. Reality was back with a vengeance.

**************************

There's a push against Ryan's shoulder and a sneer.  
"Hey, faggot."  
And Ryan felt vulnerable in a way he hadn't since he'd been a child. He straightened his shoulders that had cramped up on their own and kept walking as if he hadn't heard. No smart retort came to mind.

"How did they find out?"  
"You weren't exactly checking your behavior around him those last weeks. Someone must have guessed."

*************************

"Sister! How's Miguel doing?"  
"Fine, he's-"  
"Is there a chance he's getting out once he's better, or are you just going to lock him away like Peter Schibetta?"

**************************

They're back together. They're good. Or as good as they can be. Finally back together in one pod. Chris watched Toby move around in their pod. Rumaging through his stuff, brushing his teeth, stuff like that. And he thought how strange and paradoxical Toby was. He let himself be kissed and touched by Chris again, but he didn't trust him. Chris could see it, in the way Toby watched him, contemplatively. Sometimes he seemed to be almost lost in thought, when he did it, and his eyes got cold. It's the way he looked at the others in OZ. Potential dangers. The way he looked at Pancamo or whoever he was doing business with. It's the look he got when he's assessing someone, judging the threat the person could be, planning his next move. Toby probably didn't even know how much it hurt Chris, at least he thought that Toby wouldn't do this consciously. But who knew, Ryan had been a good teacher and Toby an eager pupil. When it came to plotting and manipulation he could have taught his own class by now.  
"Hey, stop spacing out." Toby's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. The lights were already out. He hadn't even realised it. Toby smiled at him, moving closer, going for a kiss. Chris gave it to him. He gave him everything by now. But Toby only took the physical comfort, holding him at distance, while being so fucking close. They kissed, harder now, faster. They shed their clothes, never letting go for a moment. They just let go. Moving against each other. Breathing hard. Moaning. Sucking. Biting.  
"I love you, Toby."  
Toby just laughed, not mean or anything, just like he'd said something funny.  
"Shut up."  
He sped up their movements. Rougher. Toby wanted to get down to business now. 

Chris came inside Toby. They're both breathing hard, clutching the other, holding him close. Toby nuzzled his neck, with a content sigh. And Chris just wondered, if Toby would ever confide in him again, like he'd done.

**************************

Toby didn't know how to feel. There's a big difference between love and trust. He hadn't known. Back in the days when life had been normal, he had always thought those two went together. Now he knew different. It was all so fragile. He loved Chris and he believed him when he told him, that he loved him back. But he couldn't trust. The sense of security he'd felt around Chris was gone. He felt so insecure now, so self-conscious. Touching and kissing had been so familiar. And now every touch, every caress was done hesitantly. It was the same with Chris. He still acted like he'd lost the right to touch him, like Toby would extract himself from his grasp any second. Toby wanted things to be like they were desperately, but he wasn't sure that was even possible.

**************************

"So, you're back being Chris' bitch, huh Bitcher?" Schillinger smiled broadly. Toby looked up from his weights.  
"That's not what Andy said, but I guess you wouldn't know, it's been a while since the two of you had some quality father-and-son-time."  
"You think you're so fucking smart, but you don't really think you're going to leave this alive, just because your little plan worked out? Do you think that's enough to finish me?"  
"Vern," Toby looked at him with pity, "I haven't even started."

**************************

"I never realised how hard it was." Ryan said wistfully, when they were standing inside Toby's pod.  
"What was?"  
"Having them all know."  
"It's better than everyone knowing you're a prag." Toby shrugged.  
"How... What- what do I do now?"  
"You keep going and you keep your head up high."  
"That's it?"  
"They got used to me. They'll get used to you."  
"I'm sorry. We didn't need this right now."  
"We didn't need a lot of shit. It happened nevertheless. We'll get through this too."  
It wasn't as easy as Toby tried to make Ryan believe. They all knew the word that was out currently. The Irish were led by a bunch of faggots. This wouldn't go down easy with the Irish themselves either. Toby was an outsider, but Ryan was true Irish. This was different. Worst case scenario they'd first lose credit with the other leaders and then leadership of the Irish. Then they'd be as good as dead. They wouldn't let it come to that though.

**************************

As always Toby moved out of his touching range. He'd never been comfortable with public displays of affection, but now it's like he's trying to show everyone out there his place. The way his eyes went cold when they're outside their pod doing business. Toby was the boss, Chris was just another hand, another muscle, that could be replaced at any time. The funny thing was, everyone knew that they were fucking again. That Toby was letting him fuck him again. But it didn't matter, Toby had rewritten the rules. He'd redefined himself and through that the decades old net of rules set in stone in every prison. Or not so set in stone as it turned out. Toby had made everyone see that his »private life« was his business. No one had the right to meddle with it. No one should even dare to comment on it. He's dangerous, dangerous enough that he could do whatever he wanted, including taking it up the ass. Cold, deadly Beecher turned Chris on too. But he preferred real Beecher. Because (though not only therefore) he knew Toby needed it. He didn't talk to his family about any of this. He and Ryan, they're real close, but there were things he knew Toby had only told him. But he needed it. No one who hadn't been like that from the beginning could take it all alone. Even a serial killer needed someone to lean onto from time to time. He should know.

And now Toby looked at him again, with that almost desperate look, like he wanted to say something, but something was blocking his vocal cords. So Chris did what he always did, he walked over to him, pulling him close, kissing him all over, murmuring "I love you." over and over again, like if he'd only say it often enough it would somehow stick.  
"I love you too." Toby answered and said it like it was the saddest thing in the world.

**************************

Maybe if they talked it would get better, Chris tried to fool himself. When had talking ever made anything better? But in Toby's world it worked like this.  
"Toby, we..."  
"Don't fuck this up, Chris." Toby brushed him off. It was a warning. A warning not to tread were he wasn't welcome.  
That was the problem. Toby didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to pretend that things were fine.

**************************

God, he never believed it would ever come to this. Him. In this situation. Fuck. They had to do this and they had to do this now. Before one of his boys dug up the guts to ask him of his own. It had to be their call. And they could only keep the gym empty for so long. And Ryan definitely liked for this to stay a private conversation.  
"Ryan, man, is it true?" McGinty was the first who spoke up, for all of the assembled Irish who were looking at Ryan and Toby with pathetically concealed doubt and curiousity. Only Cyril was standing a little offside, shooting a few hoops on his own. At the same time keeping an eye on his brother and showing that he wasn't overly concerned with the situation.  
This could go two ways. They'd get away with it for the time being, running on the remnants of trust they'd accumulated with the others or they'd get kicked out right-away. A coup d'etat. Whether they'd already picked a new leader or would turn this into a fight for succession was anyone's guess. Ryan seriously considered transferring the leadership on Cyril on his own before anyone had the chance to take it from him. But he couldn't bring himself to that yet.  
"Depends on what you heard," Ryan replied, with a sneer. "Have you heard that me and Miguel Alvarez are fucking, that is indeed true." Ryan gave a lazy shrug, before continuing in a light, jovial tone. "Have you heard that I am a fucking pansy and no longer able to lead," now all mirth left his face, being replaced with an expression that told of the reason people didn't want Ryan O'Reily as an enemy. "then you've been falsely informed. I've led you for two years now, while fucking a man. I will continue to do so. Those of you who only wear the cross around their necks out of habit, I have to remind that you didn't have a problem with Toby either. And for those of you who still consider themselves 'good christians', all I can tell you is, Sodomy is hardly the worst sin you guys should worry about. We all got a spot in hell reserved. Unless of course you don't believe in hell."  
There was a general wave of murmuring. Before another man stepped forward, and spoke again.  
"This looks really bad, Ryan. For all of us."  
"You know what is going to look bad? Us breaking apart."  
"Who talks about breaking apart," a voice inmidst of the other men said. "we just need a new leader."  
"How about you step forward, or are you scared of a faggot?"  
No one stepped forward. Discussion closed.  
For now the situation was contained. For now. Once again Ryan felt like running against time.

**************************

"You're out."  
"What do you mean?!" Chris asked, stunned and hurt.  
"You want to be together with me?" Toby snorted bitterly. "Alright, but I'm not keeping you in my business too. I have to act in my best interest. And if I can't protect my heart against you, I'll make damned sure, you won't fuck my business up too." Toby had only just finished his speech when moved forward with a mean smirk, pulling Chris towards him by the band of his trousers and kissed him.  
Chris pushed him away, "That's not the way this is going to be." He shook his head.  
Toby's smirk widened, "Yes, it is. You want me. Now. Tomorrow. No matter what." He claimed Chris' lips again. This time there was no objection. Despite an inner struggle, visible only through the clenching and unclenching of Chris' hands before they moved up to wrap themselves around Toby. Yet another round Toby had won.

**************************

"They're going to deal with it." Toby assured Ryan.  
"No, you don't get it. This is different."  
"How is this different?" Toby asked with waning patience.  
"We're Irish, we don't do prags."  
"Well, and so you aren't." Toby shrugged.  
"Our boys don't see it quite that way."  
"If they're smart they'll know that they're better of with you than without you. If they don't then we'll have to get the message across another way."  
"We can't whack on of our own!"  
"We don't have to kill him."

**************************

Ryan was sitting at one of the playing tables, alone. The only thing he could do with the cards alone was probaly reading his future. But he didn't have to. The future looked bleak. Suddenly another body slumped down on one of the chairs. Ryan nearly couldn't hide the surprised jerk that went through him, so absorbed had he been in his thoughts.  
"Hey," Cyril nudged his brother, grinning at him like a Cheshire Cat. "think it would be good if I had my coming-out too? Comporate identity and everything."  
"Fuck you." Came the tired reply, as Ryan got off his chair and started walking away.  
"Come on!" Cyril called after his departing brother jovially, before he shrugged and leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the table.

**************************

There was no direct insult voiced when they got in. No one said anything outwardly first. There was just a snort from Adebisi. A disgusted scowl from Pancamo. Morales didn't show any reaction, he was too smart for that.  
The meeting proceeded as always. At first.  
"Seriously, it's disgusting!"  
Toby hadn't expected it to be Pancamo, who was brave enough to voice what they were all thinking. Ryan didn't say anything. And Toby was aware he would have to and soon. He could hardly nudge him in the side in front of everyone, that wouldn't be possible subtly here. If he spoke before Ryan it would make Ryan seem weak, but if neither of them said anything now, they'd lose face anyway.  
"Chuck, try to keep your remarks focused on the topic we're here for," Toby finally said.  
"Maybe that's exactly what we're here for, Beecher." Adebisi said with a sneer.  
Morales just kept watching them, interested to see who would come out on top. Toby knew that Morales cared about them as much as the others, but at least this guy was able to separate business and private.  
"Oh yeah, are you going to give us the 'this will weaken all of us'-talk now? I don't remember anyone raising his voice, when you bent over Peter Schibetta and fucked him." It came out a little too sharp, not detached enough. Really bad form, Ryan chastised himself. But it shut the others up. Adebisi started laughing, remiscening his past glories, while Pancamo shifted his disdain from Ryan to Adebisi.

**************************

"Get a grip of yourself!" Toby was angry. "It's not that hard for Christ's sake! I did it! Weren't you talking about Miguel not being tough enough?! Show some goddamn backbone!"  
"You got no idea what you're talking about! I'm not indifferent to everybody laughing at me!"  
"People don't laugh at me." Toby stated.  
"Yeah, right." Ryan knew it was both a low-blow and a lie, but he couldn't but defend himself. He wasn't used to admitting to failure. The person who usually got the broadside of that used to be Cyril.

**************************

Chris had resolved that he wasn't really in the position for anger and hurt feelings. And this was too important and way too late for protecting one's pride. For either of them.  
"Look, Toby. I know you think you can't trust me. But, you're in a shitty situation here. Let me be there for you. Let me help."  
"The sentiment is appreciated, but I'd rather not." Came Toby's reply while he continued sorting through his mail. The Aryans didn't open his mail anylonger. Not since they'd open a letter that was laced with contact-poison. Nothing that killed, just something that sent you to the infirmary for quite some time.  
"O'Reily's a mess, Alvarez is gone. The Irish are short of an uprisal against the big, bad gay," Chris shrugged, as if it were self-explanatory. "I'm not saying involve me in the drug-trafficing. Just let me have your back."  
"I thought I was already doing that." Toby replied, one eyebrow raised in question.  
"No, you're not," Chris shook his head sadly. "You're not."

**************************

Ryan couldn't help but feel slight resentment towards Miguel, who had left him in this situation, which he was partly to blame for. How about that? He talked so much about people wiping up their own shit, but here he was looking to put the blame on everyone but him. And wasn't that how he'd always kept it? He was weak and pathetic and scared. And he was ashamed that his brother and Toby had to see him like this.

**************************

"How are things going for you these days, my friend?" Toby asked.  
"I should ask you that," Said replied. "Things for me are very much unchanged. I am no longer involved in the decisions of my brothers, even though I cannot condone the path they've choosen under the tutelage of Hamid Khan."  
"And you blame yourself for not having been able to stop them from going down that path?"  
Said smiled wistfully. "I guess I do."  
"Do you regret it?"  
Said thinks on this for a while, his face serious.  
"I guess, that I regret not having been able to choose my spriritual soul over the human part of myself. But then again, I know they are wrong. I didn't teach them of hate. I didn't teach them of segregation. And then of course, in my heart I am just a man too, and I can't regret my decision." Now he's smiling again. "But what about you?"  
"I'm not sure yet. But luckily I don't have to think too much on that matter right now."  
"Because of Ryan O'Reily."  
"Well, I guess it was hard to miss."  
"No matter what's going to happen from now on, you will always have a friend in me, in Jefferson too."  
"That is good to know."  
They hugged, before Toby went back into the world where intellectual discourse meant nothing and raw power everything.

**************************

One second they were doing laundry and the next Toby spun around, accusation on his face, like the question had been nagging on him, finally breaking out, no longer able to contain it. And that was probably exactly the case. Toby thought he could will the anger away. The hurt. The betrayal. But Chris knew it wasn't that easy. No matter how much he wished for it to be different.  
"Why did you do it," Toby looked hard at Chris. "No, seriously, why? If you loved me all that much." His voice had turned snide. "I mean, you realise, it doesn't make sense," his voice got louder. "Come on, in what fucked up universe would that make sense?!"  
Yeah. Toby was right. In the real world this wouldn't make sense. But they were in Oz. And here there were just tinmen, scarecrows and cowardly lions. And whether Chris was lacking a heart or a brain depended on who you asked. Secretly, Chris suspected that he was just a coward. Or a little man hiding behind a curtain.  
"What do you want to hear?! What else am I supposed to say or do, for you to forgive me?!"  
"Don't you even know it yourself?!"  
Yes, Chris did know why he did it. But he didn't think it would elevate him in Toby's esteem to share that bit of information. He had with Sister Pete, but than that had been a game, even if the bait had been real.  
"Just forget it." Toby said, tiredly.   
And with that the storm was over yet again, just like that.

**************************

Hot and cold. That was the way things were going with Toby these days. One second everything seemed alright ('seem' being the operative word) and the next all the hurt and anger that was far from doused (and how could it?) would break out.   
Chris hadn't expected it would be happy-ever-after just because Toby had 'decided' to forgive him.

**************************

"What Chucky, you're going to fight yourself?" Cyril asked, leaning against the wall of the gym, beside Pancamo, his boxing-gloves slung around his neck. "Don't you have someone younger and fitter for that?"  
"Careful, mick, or you might get fucked up the ass, like your brother does."  
"Yeah, I heard that you're quite the wing-man when it comes to getting fucked up the ass. I plan on watching mine and my brother's ass a little better than you did Peter Schibetta's."  
"I'm going to take you apart." Pancamo smiled madly.  
Cyril gave him an once-over.  
"All that brawn," he patted Pancamo on the chest, patronizingly. "Impressive."

**************************

"How was work, babe?" Chris asked sardonically, looking up from the magazine he was reading, when Toby entered their pod, short before lights-out.  
Toby laughed, sitting down beside Chris on his bunk.  
"Still in business so far." He leaned down and kissed Chris.  
Chris stopped him from pulling away again, dragging Toby on top of himself.  
Toby looked at Chris lying under him, as he straddled him. Lying there in his white wife-beater, arms folded behind his head, looking up at him with an easy smile, Toby couldn't believe that there could ever be a day when he wouldn't want Chris. Could ever want someone other than him. A guilty pleasure. Would it ever feel good again, indulging himself in Chris? Or would it feel like that from now on. Like he was making a big mistake whenever he let Chris close?

Chris stared up at the bunk above him, reminiscing their earlier love-making. Love-making, yes. It wasn't fucking. Never quite had been. For that it felt too grave, too important. Whenever he touched Toby. Fucking was something lighter. Something easier. Something that made you feel good. He'd felt it during his marriages. Not something that made you feel grateful, almost devout. Made him wonder if he wouldn't have been happier if he'd never felt it, never gotten to know what it feels like when you're willing to beg, when you realise you're the exact same fool you've always been looking down on. It felt good as long as it lasted. Until the moment you realised you might not get a happy ending.  
He didn't know what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to sacrifice to get Toby back. He didn't think it would be easy, but he hadn't thought it would be so hard.

Toby didn't sleep that night. He lay awake, still contemplating the situation they found themselves in. He didn't know how long he would be able to continue playing with Chris' feelings. How long before Chris would grow tired of it. Would it be before Toby grew tired of it? But Toby didn't grow tired of Chris, no matter what. He loved him. God help him. God help them both.

**************************

"So, Cyril," McGinty stalled for a moment. "you a faggot too? Like your brother."  
"Why, are you offering?" Cyril laughed.  
McGinty grunted offendedly. "That's nothing you joke about."  
"What do you want, McGinty?"  
"Have you thought about, maybe, stepping in?"  
The penny dropped. Ryan had talked about that too.  
"Ryan isn't stepping down, so there's no need for someone stepping in."  
"Yeah, sure," McGinty eyed him warily. "Just think about it for a while."

**************************

"Any news from the lawyer you set on Miguel's case?"  
"Ryan," Toby tried to choose his words wisely. He'd spent a great deal of time on deciding what to say, deciding if to say anything, deciding what was best and if it was best to leave Ryan in oblivion about the gist of it. If it wasn't wise to go the less confrontational way. Tell Ryan he was doing all in his power to get Miguel out, while doing nothing at all. All corners covered. But, no, he couldn't leave Ryan agonizing over this, looking for something that wasn't going to come. And Ryan had to see reason too. Miguel was ill. He needed help. They were so beyond the point of trying to help him themselves. If Ryan wouldn't abhor everything that came from the government, every institution for the mere fact of being an institution he probably would have been able to make this decision by himself. "Ryan. Have you considered that, maybe, Miguel needs some time away from all this?"  
"Like what?" Ryan looked at him, uncomprehending, not even beginning to consider that Toby's words, the words of anyone close to him, could go in that direction. Then the shoe dropped. "Oh yeah?! Maybe another stint in solitary, that what you thinking about?"  
"Ryan. Neither of us was able to help Miguel." Toby said very clear and very pronounced. "And if Miguel comes back now, we still won't be able to help him."  
"Bullshit!" Ryan said quickly, like it was the first impulse but he hadn't yet really thought of something to retort.  
"Yeah?" Toby raised his brow, in the same aloof and disbelieving way he'd used countless times in court. "What are you going to do then? To treat a patient with drug addiction, prone to suicide attempts, who's, as far as we know, suffering from panic attacks, depression and probably burn-out too?"  
"Don't go all smartass on me now, man!" Ryan made a move towards him but aborted midway. Whether to shove, to hit, or to walk past him wasn't clear. "We're in Oz not in the Country Club. He's not you. He doesn't need a shrink."  
"Yeah? Because we deal with this differently?" Toby didn't change his stance, looking Ryan all over, utterly unimpressed. "Because we're tough shit. And a stint in prison isn't straining or demanding at all. Not like a bank executive or a lawyer. There's no reason for this to wear a man out. To challenge him both physically and mentally. It's not a cause for hightened stress or feelings of helplessness, to be deprived of your habitat and the ability to make your own decisions. To face daily the threat to die and absolutely no perspectives for your life, should you get out. Is that what you're saying?"  
"No," Ryan's voice was rough. "What I'm saying is, if he'd been really that weak, he'd be already dead."

**************************

They showed up at the fight together. Showing unity. Despite Ryan eyeing him like he was a traitor whenever they were alone. They talked to each other alright. Business as usual. It wasn't the time for childish refusals to talk to each other. It wasn't the time to show even more weakness than they already had. This fight meant a lot.  
Cyril stepped into the ring, grinning widely. He licked over his middle finger before flicking it at Pancamo. Then he blew a kiss at Sister Pete.

Cyril wasn't scared of brawn. Dead and brainless muscle. Pancamo was a good fighter. Not just gym-good, but back-street-criminal-good. But Cyril was just a little bit better than over-average good. He hadn't found a man in this prison so far, who'd interested him. The faggot might be a challenge. What he'd seen so far of him had looked promising.

Cyril liked to give them a show. That's what Ryan wanted to see of him too. So he gave them a show. Letting Pancamo stick him a few. A little blood here and there.  
When he knocked Pancamo down, he let him get up again. You had to give them a few rounds before you go for the knockout. Otherwise it wasn't fun. Not for the audience. Not for Cyril either.

**************************

"That today was good," Chris was standing at the sink, watching Toby through the mirror. "stuff like that goes a long way."  
"Yeah, but what about Ryan?" Toby stepped behind Chris and put his hands in the back-pockets of Chris' jeans.  
"He'll come around."  
"Yeah, because Ryan's known to get over a grudge so easily."  
Chris leaned against Toby, making eye-contact through the mirror.  
"Ryan ain't holding a grudge against you," Chris shook his head. "He's scared and he's not used to being weak, to being antagonized directly. That's what's going on there."

**************************

"Ryan," Cyril took a stand beside his brother on the railing of the second floor, "they approached me again." He said it without indicating through tone or expression that anything was amiss.  
"What did you say." Ryan answered keeping his features schooled as well and his tone light.  
"Not interested. But this, I don't know, it's not exactly going the way we want it to, right?"  
"I have things covered. You just make sure to win the next fights."

**************************

"How about we take it to the next level." Ryan said, after dropping into a chair beside Toby.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Half of the cake is nice, but I'm not someone who likes to share. Chucky is no match for either of us. Why should the Italians have the final say. I say the kitchen should belong to us."  
"You want to take the kitchen to show them you're still the man." Toby said and his voice already spoke of his disapproval.  
"Yes." Ryan retorted petulantly.  
"We don't need that kind of trouble right now."  
Ryan only snorted. "So what's your plan? Sit and wait it out?"  
Toby closed his eyes, his jaw working. When he opened them again, his gaze said that he'd run out of patience.  
"Stop losing your shit, Ryan. Stop right now!"

**************************

"Maybe you shouldn't allow the Irish to run their mouths as they do and instead make a statement they will understand." Chris pointed out while they were waiting in their pod for the lights to go out.  
Despite having suggested the same thing to Ryan not too long ago, Toby couldn't help but snap at Chris, feeling patronized.  
"I'll let you know if I want your input."  
Chris looked stunned by that answer, staring at him for a moment. Before shrugging and shaking his head. He turned around, but midway changed his mind and switched back to facing Toby. His eyes were angry and his mouth was twisted into a cruel smile.  
"Do you want us to be something or not?! Because I don't know what I'm to you right now. Do you even know what I'm to you?"  
"You're a disease infecting me from inside." Toby returned, honest enough to make himself feel uneasy.  
Chris snorted, smile coming on full-force. Scornfully. Cavalierly.  
"We've been there already. What do you want? Make up your mind!"  
Chris. Peace of mind. Simple, non-contradictory feelings. But that was hardly an answer Toby felt like giving. But he would have to. Or maybe he could just watch Chris walk away fed up with him. That would solve this particular problem once and for all. No, neither would it solve that problem, nor would it be a solution Toby would be willing to accept. Unveiling your emotions was never a fun thing. Much less, when you already had them flung back in your face once before.  
Toby gave way for once. Chris could see it. The pain in his eyes that Chris didn't want there but at the same time felt a certain glee over.  
"I want to be with you. I do."  
"Who's stopping you?" Chris asked, voice having turned soft again.  
"That should be obvious, shouldn't it?"

**************************

"The Latinos are out thanks to Miguel," Cyril started listing. "So are the Homeboys." To favor their cause further, Adebisi had actually lost his fight against the representative of The Gays. "The bikers and the Italians are out too. That leaves in the next match. Me against Robson and Hamid Khan against that faggot," he laughed. "No, let's be more specific. One of those many faggots that seem to be populating Em City currently. One of the non-gang-leading ones."  
Ryan gave his little brother the finger, despite being vaguely amused himself. If it hadn't been him he would have considered the situation funny too.

**************************

"You know, sometimes I have this stupid dream, it's not a dream really, I never dreamed it, but anyway, sometimes I imagine that we're on the outside, I'm still a lawyer and you are something- whatever- not in jail. And we meet by chance and we're living together."  
"Stop hiding in your fantasies, Beecher, just because you're afraid of the real world."  
"Of course you wouldn't understand." Toby remarked wrily.  
"No," Chris shook his head grimmly. "It is you who doesn't understand. I'm saying, fuck the outside and fuck the picket-fences and everything. We have something in here. Something that is worth it. Something that most of those fuckers out there will never have. And it's a not a fucking picket-fence you want either."  
"Yeah, because you would know what I want and what I don't want."  
"Sure I do." Chris answered without hesitation.  
"Fuck you! Do you think I wanted to have my arms and legs broken? To fall in love and find out that it was nothing but a game?"  
"And still you want me. And I want you. Love isn't some PG-rated little fantasy, where everything is cupcakes and your parents explain the parts you didn't get at the end! Sometimes you get hurt! So what?! Deal with it!"  
"Oh, yeah? Were you ever on the receiving end?!"  
"Here. Now."  
"I didn't even get started on you."  
"Sure, you did. And you know it."

**************************

Ryan could feel the way the eyes of his boys were on him while he was standing in the first row with Toby watching his brother's fight. The way they were staring. Or maybe it was just his imagination. Because he felt ashamed to be a fag, for everyone to know. No matter how much he took pleasure in relishquishing the values he'd been raised with, some you couldn't get out of your blood.

Cyril bathed in the cheering of the crowd acknowledging his victory, while Robson stumbled out of the ring his nose probably broken. The other Irish came milling into the ring, congratulating him. Cyril searched for his brother with his eyes. Since he didn't seem to join them anytime soon, Cyril left the ring and came to him, pulling his brother into a hug.

His brother did everything for him. Ryan knew that. And he disappointed him and used him. Just the same with Toby. Only that Toby didn't let himself get used, not anylonger. But hurt he did both of them. Probably what happened with Miguel was his fault too. And maybe Toby had even been right, no matter how little Ryan wanted to hear it. Ryan didn't spend a lot of time on thinking about the feelings of others. Only those of his enemies. Those he needed to manipulate. Not the people he expected to do his bidding anyway. Those who loved him.

**************************

It's a reason to celebrate. Another time he humiliated the Aryans. A big step towards winning back their position. Things were looking up. Nevertheless Toby felt depressed. Depressed at the entire situation. At him and Chris sitting here inside their pod, seemingly run out of things to say to each other. Sometimes what Chris said made so much sense, made it seem so easy to acknowledge what they had and still could have. And still Toby had no answer for him the last time and Chris didn't seem to have anymore to say. And maybe it wasn't even Chris Toby was the most angry with these days.  
"You know, had you been my brother and done this, I could have gotten over this. Forgiven you and everything. But the fact that I love you. Still love you after everything. That really bugs me. It makes me wonder what kind of pathetic bitch I am."  
Chris looked at him earnestly, shaking his head. "That's what others would say about you. Don't talk like that about yourself."  
They kissed after that, falling into the motions so easily. Their bodies still fitting together perfectly as long as they didn't talk. Solving nothing but enough for now. They were taking no step forward but none back either. 

**************************

Ryan walked into the laundry room.   
Toby only shook his head. "I'm not going to apologize. Because I have no fucking reason to. I did the right thing. And whether you agree or not has no effect on either that or the outcome."  
"We've been through a lot of shit together," Ryan stated, face hard and set. "I helped you get away from Schillinger and you had my back while I had cancer. And you know I would have done anything to avenge you after Keller and Schillinger fucked you up in the gym. You are my brother, just like Cyril." He shook his head. "Right now neither of you is a great source of joy to me. But you're my brother nevertheless. And I can't," he snorted, shaking his head again. "I really can't do without either of you right now."  
"You haven't been a great source of joy to me either." Toby said, hugging Ryan with a wry smile.

**************************

"O'Reily," Mineo called him. "McManus wants a word with you."

"What's up boss-man? Still grumpy about Khan?"  
"Shut up, O'Reily and sit down."  
The grave face promised nothing good.  
"Alvarez is coming back to Em City. And I want this to be very clear to you, I want no dead bodies because of that. If something happens to Alvarez-"  
"Do you seriously still think I want to harm him?"  
"I know, O'Reily, that you have usually no qualms ridding yourself of trouble."  
"Wow, thanks, man."

**************************

Miguel hadn't anticipated the hooting and cheering when the door to Em City opened. Seemed he had missed something. He was relieved when he saw Ryan and Toby waiting for him.  
"Hey." He hugged neither of them. Not in public anyway. He met Ryan's eyes, afraid what he'd find there.  
Ryan watched Miguel as he approached. He looked good enough, if maybe thinner. Once he'd reached them, Ryan turned around and walked to their pod.  
Miguel threw a quick look at Toby, who looked at least like he was glad to see him, before he followed Ryan.

"How are you feeling?" Ryan was leaning against the sink when Miguel entered.  
"Good. Better. That my fault?" Miguel asked pointing outside their pod.  
"Don't worry about it. It's under control." Ryan shrugged it off.  
"I'm sorry," Miguel started, realising he had no idea what had happened while he was gone, had no idea what exactly he had to be sorry for.  
"This is nothing. You missed most of the fun."

*************************

They took Miguel with them, of course. Shunning him now would have shown weakness, would have shown they cared. Even Ryan, who obviously wasn't thinking straight currently, could see that. And Toby had never had any intention to outcast Miguel. Miguel had been one of his first steps back to himself. One of the few good things he did here. Miguel had come to him for help and he had been able to give it to him. Toby felt responsible for him beyond their friendship.  
Cyril went to his corner of the ring and hugged his brother before the beginning of the final fight. "Let's win this shit and then things will get back to normal, alright."  
"Yeah, alright." Ryan assented.

Hamid Khan's head snapped back as he spiralled to the floor. Cyril knew that something wasn't right. He'd meant to make this victory impressive. Khan was physically his superior. Heavyweight, brutal with more precision than Pancamo could ever hope for. Finishing him in a way that would leave no place for doubt, would make them leave this tournament with a bang. Maybe he'd overdone it here.

**************************

"I missed most of the fights," Miguel mused when they returned to their pods. "Did I miss much?"  
"Cyril won." Ryan shrugged, lying down on his bunk.  
"How are you dealing with all this shit?" Miguel started a completely different topic.  
"I have to deal with it. No one to shoulder it for me."  
Miguel was sure he wasn't imagining the accusation in Ryan's tone. And he probably deserved it. He hadn't ruled out Ryan renouncing him over this. But when he didn't he hadn't expected this coldness either. Like he was some tacky piece of furniture that Ryan didn't want anylonger but couldn't bring himself to throw away either.

**************************

"Any news on Khan?" Toby asked casually.  
"He's braindead." Murphy returned.  
Oh shit. Toby didn't like Khan, but he hadn't wished him dead.  
"You wanted the boxing match. If you try to pin it on Cyril I'll sue you into next year, take my word on it."  
"Trust me," Murphy said. "The last thing Glynn wants is draw attention to what happened here."

**************************

"What were you doing talking to Morales?" Ryan asked.  
"Just some details on this weeks delivery." Cyril answered. "Thought you had enough on your mind as it is."  
"That isn't part of your job."  
"I'm more than just your muscle, Ryan."  
"Yeah, you've proven that much."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"The guy's braindead! Wasn't that taking things a little bit too far?"  
"When was Ryan O'Reily ever scared of taking things a little too far?"

**************************

"Cyril killing that guy was actually rather helpful for your cause." Chris told Toby. "Everybody knows you're friends with Said. They think you ordered it."  
"I didn't!"  
"I know." Chris laughed. "But everybody thinks so. However they feel about O'Reily, they think you're some scary, cold-ass bastard. And, hey, his death has other benefits too. Your buddy Said is back with his 'brothers'. You could say, the second Khan hit the floor they came running back to Said. Good for you. Some decent manpower if you need it."

"Said, you have to believe me, I had nothing to do with Hamid Khan's death! It was an accident!"  
"I didn't believe you were to be held accountable. That would have been Ryan O'Reily's style. And he has no love for me."

"Looks good." Ryan stated.  
"Yeah, looks good." Toby replied surly.  
"Come on, no one liked the guy. And we need all the good publicity we can get."  
"There's no such thing as bad publicity." Toby countered a little less miffed.  
"Oh yeah, sure you didn't study marketing at Harvard?"

**************************

Looking at his life, Toby had to wonder. Where had the funny and sexy times gone to? Where there had been no reason for doubt or distrust. Where he'd actually felt good in here. Well, okay, the funny, sexy times streaked with panic attacks and general questioning of one's life concept.  
But he wanted it back. He wanted the good times. He deserved it. Okay, maybe not, but he demanded it anyway. Seeing how miserable Ryan and Miguel were and not being able to do anything but stand by and watch how futile and stupid it was, he felt like it mirrored his and Chris' relationship.

**************************

"Tobias."  
Toby looked at Sister Pete and from what he saw in her face he must have been looking right pitiful.  
"Yes, sister?" He humored her.  
"What's on your mind?"  
"You know what is." Toby shrugged. "Is there a chance for trust after such an betrayal?"  
"Is there a chance for trust between two people ever?" Sister Pete surprised him with her answer.

**************************

"Let me kill someone for you."  
Toby laughed, shaking his head at Chris' eager and hopeful expression.  
"That's your solution for everything."  
"Most of the times it works," Chris gave him a wry smirk.  
"Is that how your marriages worked?"  
"Nah." Chris' hand moved to the back of Toby's neck. "You're not my wife though, are you?"  
Toby had been averse to any display of intimacy in public ever since... but this time he didn't move away. Because it felt good and right. And who was supposed to keep him from something he wanted to? Who was he to let people keep him from what he wanted? He wasn't Ryan. He was stronger than that, in ways Ryan couldn't acknowledge yet. Toby leaned forward, kissing Chris. Someone walking past them hooted. Toby shot him a cold look. He didn't know the guy, but he would be able to find out. Chris followed the retreating man with his eyes, turning back to Toby, once the source of disturbance had moved out of his line of sight. He wore a sharkish grin.  
"Is that a 'yes'?"  
"No," Toby shook his head, still some mirth left in his eyes. "I don't need you to kill for me, Chris." He said. "I don't need you at all. I want you."  
Chris had been there for him. Still was. Through all this shit. He'd been there. Maybe one day he wouldn't be anylonger. But maybe it was time to stop judging Chris by his actions only when they were bad.

**************************

"I want back in, Ryan."  
"No," Ryan shook his head.  
"I'm not deranged or anything!"  
"You tried to kill yourself."  
"You can't just replace me!" Miguel raised his voice.  
"I already have." Ryan returned coldly. "Morales is doing a fine job for me and he'll continue to do so."  
"What am I now then?! Your bitch?!"  
Ryan stared at him, long and hard.  
"You're the person who's still alive because I love him."

**************************

They were sitting in the cafeteria, side by side, their legs touching. Toby turned his head and smiled at him. It had been a long way from the last time Chris had been recipient of one of those smiles to this day. No one in here smiled like this. This was a smile of the outside, careless, unconcealed and happy. And it was for him alone. You didn't smile like this. It was one of the basic rules. Don't smile. Get yourself a weapon. Watch your back. Toby had broken all the rules for him. Chris sighed contently, a rare show of emotion, he seldom allowed himself in public. Suddenly, Schillinger, sitting with his Aryans a few tables to the left, raised his voice for all in the cafeteria to hear.  
"Sodomy: In the lawbooks it is defined as 'any crime against nature'." he looked around to check that he had everyone's attention. "It includes anal intercourse between men and sexual intercourse with animals. But it's not only condemned by the state" he raised his voice further. "Most importantly it is condemned by god." he sneered at Said. "I think you would agree with me."  
Toby just turned around, staying seated. "As a former lawyer I feel obliged to inform you that your little bedtime-action also counts among 'anal intercourse'. Luckily it's no longer considered a crime in our days." the last sentence he delivered with an certain edge to his voice, that advised caution. "Rape on the other hand, my dear Vern, is."

**************************

"You're out, Ryan." Fergus told him. "We took a vote and decided to pass your spot on to Cyril."  
'Are you kidding' seemed like the wrong response, even though it was on Ryan's tongue that instant.  
"Alright," Ryan responded instead. "That's not really a surprise anyway." He smirked at the man's disbelieving expression. "What? Did you think I was going to bash you in the face. I have the best interest of my people in mind too. Whatever it takes."

"You're kidding, right?"  
"We both saw it coming, Beecher."  
"Fuck."  
"Life goes on."  
"This is only temporary." Toby stated resolutely.  
"Of course it is." Ryan shrugged carelessly. Only, he wasn't all that sure.

Chris leaned against the wall, beside McGinty.  
"Out of curiosity. Why O'Reily and not Beecher. They're both gay as I'm sure you haven't missed."  
"Yeah, but Beecher is crazy."

"Either I take over or we'll lose control completely. This way at least Toby will get to keep his lead. You know it's just for appearances. If you say we won't, then I won't."  
"No." Ryan gave a humourless laugh. "You're right. It doesn't matter." He knew his brother would never go against him. The one person he knew would always have his back. Had always had his back. But hell, it hurt. To give up. To admit for once that his game hadn't been good enough. He couldn't remember ever having fallen that low before.

**************************

He thought he'd never felt so much shame in his life as the moment Toby and Cyril went to meet the other leaders and he had to stay behind with Chris and the rest.

**************************

It was petty to feel a certain satisfaction at Ryan's fall. But, since he was giving him pretty much the cold-shoulder these days, Miguel was feeling sort of vindicated in his attitude.  
It was even sort of funny that their relationship had ruined Ryan's reputation and they weren't even really together anymore.

**************************

"Why didn't you just leave him in Psych Ward?"  
Ryan jerked around, looking at Toby with surprise and noncomprehension.  
"Why I didn't...?"  
"If you were going to let it end like this between the two of you," Toby elaborated scornfully. "Why didn't you leave him in Psych Ward and tell everyone that nothing was going on between the two of you, or that he's your prag?"  
"Mind your own business, Beecher."

**************************

"Beecher! You got a visitor. An Agent Taylor."

No. No. No. Toby feelt the cold of helplessness creep up on him in a way he's never experienced before.  
"We will do anything in our power to find your children, Mr. Beecher."

**************************

"HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?!! THERE WAS ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO BE SOMEONE WATCHING THEM!!!!!"  
"We don't know yet. But we're going to find out. I promise you that." Ryan was a wall of calm in all this. Despite all the shit that happened before and pretty much having lost his footing, Ryan was the one keeping his head now. "Whoever fucked this up is going to die for it."  
That wasn't good enough. That wasn't good enough. Toby's hands trembled. He felt the urge to throw up. This wasn't going to end well. Nothing in Oz ended well.

**************************

Toby walked towards Schillinger. His face a mask of toneless, boneless, obliterating hate. Schillinger was meeting his eyes with deep-set satisfaction.  
"Beecher, what brings you here? Heard about your children. Ugly business," he shook his head. "Who does something like that? Family is sacred."  
Toby's voice was dark and relatively calm, "If anything happens to my children you will wish you're never born." The panic rolled over him like a wave, unexpected, hitting him before he could steel himself against it. His voice got louder, desperate, angry. "Please, please don't hurt them!" Pleading. Threatening. Praying. Bargaining. "Kill me!" Desperation. Helplessness. Defeat. There were tears in his eyes.  
"Beecher, I'd never hurt innocent children. What do you think of me? I'll pray for you every night, though, for the little darlings to return."  
Toby didn't know what kicked in then, survival instinct or his soul having gotten bleached and washed out with blood so often that even now he could cut his losses, he calmed himself, schooled his features and walked off.

**************************

Toby was so strong. Chris watched him as he walked around, in control all the time, watching everyone around yet not showing any concern about them. Even in a time like this Toby kept the cold, calculating demeanor he'd so carefully cultivated. To Chris he was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his life. No one had seen Tobias Beecher weak, since those unfortunate events at the beginning of his prison sentence, no one, except him. He had permeated through the eleborate, icy armor. He was seeing Toby. The soul of the man who'd been sent to OZ, who had grown to be stronger, than his mistakes and his opponents. The man no one, except him, knew still existed. The man who had morals, the man who cried, the man who was deeply troubled over so many things. 

It was lights-out. Toby moved behind their bed into the only corner of their pod where you had something resembling privacy. He waited for Chris to join him there. Then he slowly sunk to the floor. Chris followed suit.  
"Oh god, Chris." Toby pressed out, his voice slightly wavering. A show of emotion he never allowed himself around others. "Oh god. What if they don't find them?!" he broke down into soundless sobs, a technique he'd perfected by now. No one of the others, inmate or hack, would ever hear Tobias Beecher cry again. Chris just held him, softly rocking him. Whispering endearments and shushing sounds in his ear. Keeping the senseless murmuring up all the time, until he felt Toby relax in his arms. There was nothing else he could do. Meaningless phrases like "It's going to be alright." were useless in a place like OZ.

*****************************

"You, of course, are aware of the deeds of your lover, Mr. Beecher." Agent Taylor mentioned all suave and business.  
"What are you talking about? We're here because of my children." Toby was exhausted and not up for childish power-plays.  
"Well, the series of murders that miraculously stopped since your beloved went to prison. He must have surely confided in you. Three young, gay men, sodomized and tortured before he killed them."  
"What makes you think it was him?"  
"He frequented the same bars."  
Toby snorted.  
"Really? That's all you have? Even if you find a DA stupid enough to try to pick up the case, the judge won't even use the warrant to wipe his mouth after dinner."  
"Ah, yes, I forgot. You were a lawyer." Agent Taylor smiled. "Quite some change you underwent. It's hard to believe though, that you'd strip yourself of all attachments to your former life. You're just trying to survive in here, I understand that..."  
Toby didn't even snort at that.  
"...but whatever happens outside is murder. Innocent young men, murdered in cold blood. How do you justify that?"  
"It's an abhorrent deed. Despictable and inexcusable. But Chris didn't do it."

*****************************

"Hey, Toby." Chris was at his side the moment he's back in Em City. "How did it go? Any news?"  
"None. I met one Agent Taylor today. I reckon you know him."  
"Yeah, he's kinda obsessed with me. Wants to pin some murders on me." Chris grinned, lazily. They were back in their pod by now.  
"You don't have to keep up appearances for me." Toby stated solemnly. "Did you kill them?"  
Chris couldn't read Toby's expression. It was hard these days anyway, with Toby trying to keep most of his emotions in. But now even worse. And Chris didn't want to make a mistake here. That would be the ultimate joke, Agent Taylor couldn't get him for the murders, but he'd take from him the only thing he really cared about. But lying didn't work well with Toby.  
"Yes."  
"Why?"  
There's not yet judgement in Toby's voice, maybe mild curiousity, nothing to indicate he didn't mean exactly what he said. Chris was taken of guard by the question, where he had expected maybe disgust, horror or...but not this question. Not in any but a rhetorical sense.  
"Why?...I...Shit, I don't know." He went for a casual laugh.  
"Of course you do. You killed them after all." Toby's voice was soft, still devoid of blame.  
"I don't know, maybe the whole supressed homosexuality-self-hate thing." Chris shrugged.  
"Okay." Toby looked straight at him. Chris started crying. Toby moved closer, putting his arms around Chris. Chris moved into his touch, his hands clutching him, clinging to every piece of Toby they could reach.  
Toby was no longer in the position to cast the first stone, if he'd ever been. Maybe Schillinger taking his children was divine punishment, was the punishment for all his crimes, for his constant sinning. But that was bullshit. Action and Reaction. What happened to him, what Schillinger did was just a reaction to what Toby had done. He should have expected it, should have prevented it. It was horrible. But there was nothing divine about it. Schillinger and him were as far away from God's clutch as could be.  
And he loved Chris and he couldn't even feel appropriately horrified about the meaningless deaths of those innocent men. He couldn't care. Not enough for it to have an effect. Because he already loved Chris, he loved him and he'd forgiven him. And he loved him despite it. Despite knowing that Chris was completely fucked-up in the head. Dangerous. A bad man to every effect. But so was Toby. He'd proven so the second he turned down Lima's offer. He was a bad man and he was with bad men. Love wasn't beautiful in the best of times. But here, right now it was beautiful enough for Toby to cling to it with everything he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, I value them greatly, despite still taking so long to update. I'd lost my flow a little bit for some time and couldn't really get into the story, feeling really dissatisfied with all my efforts (which was doubly frustrating since I had already a lot done, but couldn't quite glue it together). But I'm back in the saddle now, also thanks to re-reading the fanfictions of the great levitatethis who's works I consider to be some of the most beautifully written in the whole fandom (yeah, that's a reading recommendation, if you haven't already done so^^).


	11. This is my kingdom come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of Season 4
> 
> Toby's children are still missing.  
> Ryan still tries to come to terms with his lost power.  
> Cyril tries to pick up where his brother left off.  
> Miguel is trying to figure out whether there's any use in trying to fix things with Ryan.  
> And Chris is about to find out what it feels like to be the wronged party.
> 
> Toby has little time to care to worry about continuing enmities and sudden shifts in power, while Ryan has all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, I know, I know, I'm not even going to pretend the next chapter will be sooner. I realise my writing cycle is indeed a cycle, where I switch from fandom to fandom until I'm back at the start. Sooner or later each story I'm working on comes up again, but to try and force it in between just doesn't work.
> 
> Anyway enjoy!

***************************** 

It was all a different matter if the unspeakable did really happen. What to say? What to do? Except to shake with horror and grief. Paralyzed. Broken.  
"Why? Why? Is it punishment for the things I've done? Were they really that unforgivable?" Toby looked up. "Am I really the worst of all the man in here? And even if..."

***************************** 

"I can't believe you didn't see it coming Beecher. Keller is still working for Schillinger. That was all part of the plan. Why did you think the Aryans let Keller live after everything? He's ordered the hit on your son."

***************************** 

In retrospective it was stupid. He should have known from the beginning. Chris wouldn't do this to him. Chris would maybe hurt him, but he wouldn't hurt the people close to him. Not his children. Why had he believed it? Because it made everything even worse? Because it would undo him with finality? Or still the nagging doubt. That it would have made so horribly much sense. It would all fit together.

***************************** 

"I'm sorry Chris!"  
"Don't...don't even." Chris moved away from him. "I'll tell McManus to put me in another pod."

Nevertheless Chris returned that night to their shared pod. Toby had pulled some strings with McManus and had convinced him to let Chris stay with him.  
"What do you think this is going to get you? Nothing's changed." The coldness in Chris' eyes hurt Toby to a degree that wasn't healthy.  
"I'm not giving up that easily."  
"What good's it going to do you, Beecher?" Chris asked, purposely undressing in front of Toby.  
We'll see, Toby thought. He wasn't willing to lose another person just now. Or was it really just his need to control everyone around him? A slightly manic giggle escaped him. Chris turned around, watching him with unease.  
He couldn't lose anymore right now. And if he came back to a pod full of hostility, it didn't matter. As long as he had someone to come back to. He'd thrown it away this time. He'd thrown it all away. And yeah, Chris didn't have a solid foundation of trustworthyness, but this... No, chastising himself now made neither Gary alive again nor Chris come back to him. He needed to look forward. Needed to be strong. For his living children. For Ryan. For himself. And, yeah, for Chris too, whether he wanted to acknowledge it right now or not.

***************************** 

"I have a child to bury." Toby said.  
"Of course, Toby." Ryan answered immediately, backing away from his talk of business.  
"And after that," Toby continued. "I want it to rain hell on Schillinger."  
"You got it." Ryan paused. "What about your daughter?"  
The sound that escaped Toby was disfigured version of a snort, wheezing and painful. "You don't really believe Schillinger is going to return her to me? She is probably already dead. He's just waiting for the right time to show her to me. Our guys out there will keep looking, but the only thing I have hopes for is that we will find Hank Schillinger at one point. That we'll be able to kill him."

***************************** 

"Toby..."  
"Get out of my way, Andy. I'm trying really hard not to take this out on you."

***************************** 

Cyril walked over to the Aryans milling around one of the work-out benches, flexing his muscles.  
"This is war." He stated, grimly. "You overstepped everything that's decent and human."  
Robson swaggered over to him.  
"Oh, you're calling the shots now? Your brother's a fag. Are you too?"  
"Why don't you come over here, ride my dick and find out."

***************************** 

Toby wasn't sure how he was supposed to get through this meeting. His eyes were glued to the watch on the wall that seemed to tick away the seconds of his daughter's life, while he was here. Helpless. Meaningless.

Another day, another meeting he wasn't allowed to attend. A deck of cards slammed onto the table in front of him, Ryan's head jerked up.  
"Tired of tweedling your thumbs?" Miguel asked.

***************************** 

Cyril approached Chris, who looked at him surprised.  
"Keller, you're back in."  
One of Chris' eyebrows went up, questioningly.  
"I need the manpower and," he threw a glance over to Toby's pod. "I don't think Toby will care at this time."

***************************** 

Andy was sure Hank wouldn't show up at his home, nevertheless he hoped the message would reach him somehow, anyway.  
"Hank, it's me, Andy. By the love of god, return the girl! Don't make it worse. I don't know what dad has told you, promised you. It's not worth it. Don't let anything happen to the girl. Carrie is pregnant. Imagine someone would hurt your child."

***************************** 

"Don't you think it's time to return home, son?" Schillinger asked, suddenly standing behind Andy.  
"Now I'm your son again, is that right?" Andy asked acerbically.   
"You can't be stupid enough to believe he'll let you live for much longer."  
"An eye for an eye? A son for a son? That what you talking about?" Andy shook his head in disgust. "He's not like you. You know what, don't even talk to me."

***************************** 

"Toby!" McManus came running towards him. "They found your daughter! She's alive."

Chris was glad to hear it, was glad to see the elation on Toby's face, to know that at least that wasn't taken from him. But that was it. Because he was a mean bastard. No forgiveness where he came from.

The news made the round pretty quickly.

"Thank God, that kid is found." Pancamo said.  
"Yeah, maybe now we can actually do business again." Adebisi remarked.

"That stupid son of a bitch was dumb enough to get arrested when he brought the girl back," Schillinger told Robson. "Now I need to get him a lawyer."

Schillinger felt the urge to squirm under the gaze of his superior in the brotherhood who was looking at him through the glasswall in the visitor booth with cold eyes.  
"Vern, the brotherhood doesn't consider the murder of white, American, protestant children as belonging to our cause. You can't seriously expect us to pay for a lawyer. If you had told me your ridiculous request over the phone I wouldn't have bothered coming in the first place."

***************************** 

"I forgave you." Pleading.  
"I guess that makes you the better man."  
"Fuck you!" Anger. Toby's words were accompanied with a push against Chris' chest. "You asshole! At least I was in a bad situation when I did it! You had no excuse back then! And now you dare to refuse me?!"  
"What's this going to be, Toby? Are you going to insult me until I take you back?"  
The fist hit him in the face, but Chris was just too tired to even retaliate. He just wanted Toby to stop talking. He lied down on his bunk, closing his eyes, ignoring Toby's presence to the best of his abilities.

***************************** 

~I forgave you.~  
~I guess that makes you the better man.~

The words still rang in Chris' head. It was dark around them, everyone still asleep. Everyone except Toby and him. He was lying in his bunk staring up to were Toby was lying. He had ended it. It was the only option he'd had after what Toby had done. Or more precisely, what Toby'd thought. Unforgivable. No place to turn. Still confined in the same pod. Like he would have gotten him out from under his skin by just physical distance.

***************************** 

Ryan had an idea. Drug trade was based on the concept of demand and supply, creating a need for something. He'd create a need too. A need for himself. And to create that new demand, he'd need to create a problem first.

All he had to do for that was watch. Watch what was going on in Em City and where things could go wrong the fastest way. A prison was a fragile eco-system. Change one tiny detail and everything would fall into chaos.   
And he had all the time in the world to watch, it wasn't like he still had a job to do.

***************************** 

"What are you planning?" Miguel asked.  
"I'm not planning anything." Ryan replied.  
"You're never not planning anything." Miguel snorted.  
"Oh, yeah? What are you taking?"  
"I'm not taking anything!" Miguel replied affronted.  
"You're never not taking anything." Ryan threw the words back in his face.  
"Cute." Miguel replied. "You know, Ryan, I might not be your boyfriend anylonger, but I'm not your bitch either. If at all, I'd be Toby's bitch. He was the one who wanted to save me back then. I know where my loyalities lie. Maybe it's time you figure out yours."  
With that said, Miguel left the pod.

"How often you gonna let him blow you off?"  
Miguel hadn't seen Chris standing beside the pod, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets.  
"Figure, if you want something, you gotta fight for it." Miguel replied.  
"Good luck with that." Chris strolled away again.

***************************** 

Ryan saw a mixture between pity and disgust in Toby's face when he came across the new, French inmate, who'd been harassed by the Homeboys since day one. Ryan thought it very interesting to see Toby's two sides battle like this. How he for one thing wanted to protect those who were weak and at the same time couldn't respect them as he was reminded of himself once upon a time.

Discretely Ryan left the pod of the frenchy again. No one paid him any mind. His brother and Toby were still at the meeting.

***************************** 

Ryan watched Wangler and Junior approach the French guy once again, predictably. Miguel was still on work detail in the infirmary. Cyril was in the gym. Toby was in his pod as usual these days. Ryan scanned the room and found what he was looking for.  
"K-boy we need to talk. Now. Your pod."  
Chris looked uncomprehending but followed him anyways.  
"I'll leave you two." Toby said, when they entered their shared pod.  
"No, you won't." Ryan grabbed Toby's arm. "This concerns both of you."  
Outside the shooting started. They all threw themselves to the floor.

They slowly got up once the situation outside was contained.  
"Shit," Ryan wiped his hands on his trousers. "What do they have out there? Another riot? Reminds you of old days, eh?" He nudged Toby.  
"That was hella lucky." Chris stated, throwing a glance outside, where several casualties were littering the floor. "What did you want to talk about, O'Reily?"  
"Shit," Ryan laughed. "I can't even remember."

***************************** 

His plan had worked out. Now the time for the real work began. Ryan looked over the railing of the first storey. "Is it just me, or do we have a tid-bid of racial tension here?"

***************************** 

After the police having kept his whereabouts pretty much covered, word reached them now, that Hank Schillinger had been transferred to Lardners Gen Pop.

Toby hadn't seen Andy for what felt like a lifetime, well not consciously seen, he had been with them after all. But now he was stepping into his face.  
"Please, Toby! Please! Don't kill my brother!"   
"You call that your brother? He killed my four year old son and sent me his cut off hand."   
"He's my little brother." Andy pleaded. "He'll get a life-sentence! He'll be punished by the law!"  
"Life-sentence." Toby let the word role over his tongue. "That's a whole lot more than my son got!"  
He'd made sure not to see Andy, not to pay him any mind. He knew why. And now it seemed just too easy to give way to the voice in his head that had been shouting for him to kill everything that belonged to Schillinger. But Andy didn't. Andy belonged to him now. He hadn't been able to protect his own children from Schillinger, but at least he'd been able to protect Schillinger's own son from his father.

***************************** 

"Chris, please." Toby's voice was pained and urgent. Chris relished in the sound of it. Tobias Beecher didn't beg, never. Only now he did. The sweet sound of Toby's need and desperation helped Chris over the agony of withdrawal. Toby-withdrawal. His whole body itched to reach out and touch Toby again. It was so easy, everything he wanted was layed out on the upper bunk waiting for him. Still Chris was confined to his bunk like he lay there in chains. 

Toby was slowly falling apart. Whatever balance he had thought, he'd achieved since the first days at OZ, was gone. Gary's death had ripped him to pieces inside. How could he have been so stupid, thinking his family would be safe outside. And now he'd lost Chris too. And he couldn't show a thing of it. He hadn't showed emotion when his children had been abducted. He hadn't shown emotion when the package had arrived. He hadn't shown emotion when they'd found Gary. He couldn't. Weakness meant death. He still had to rule his little kingdom in hell. Running tits. Always outsmarting their competitors. He clung to that routine like it was his last ankor tying him to sanity. Work-detail: Running tits. Getting up in the morning exhausted him. Eating became a nuissance. Yet he did it all, keeping up appearances.

***************************** 

"Toby, listen. Your relationship was unhealthy to begin with. Either he played you or you played him. There was always someone breaking involved. And this time you both might."  
"Sorry, Ryan, it's not as deep and philosophical as you imagine. It never was. It's just two guys fucking each other over."  
"Then stop or end it. Either is okay with me."  
"Can't."  
For a moment Ryan wasn't sure if Toby was on something. His detached voice with the vacant stare. Then it was gone again and Toby looked just miserable and angry.

***************************** 

"It's been long enough." Ryan appeared on Chris' side, taking the seat beside him, uninvited. Chris knew he was too much involved in their business to be finished of just like that, but he hadn't given much on their friendship. As good as he and Ryan had been getting along again after everything, they both weren't the type to put much stake on others. It wasn't like what Ryan had with Toby. Nevertheless the others still engaged with him pretty unpertubed. Obviously they still thought Toby and him were over only temporarily.  
"You're being unnecessarily cruel here, man." Ryan continued, when Chris didn't react.  
"I'm not trying to make a point. We're done."  
"You don't mean that."  
"We're done."  
"Fuck- what-" Ryan buried his hands in his hair, feeling the strain of the past weeks to the last. "You stupid fuck!" He pointed his finger at Chris. "If you let it end like this," he paused there, staring at Chris with anger. "you're destroying the only good thing that's ever going to happen in your life."  
"Gee, what a rosy future you paint for me."

Ryan had to wonder though. He wasn't really in the position to point any fingers, was he? After lying all his life practically whenever he opened his mouth, could he really blame Miguel for having lied to him? But yeah, it wasn't just being personally offended. He didn't deal with weak. He didn't deal with liability. He parted with whatever weighted him down. That he hadn't really parted with Miguel was one thing, but he wouldn't let him get close again either. Especially now, when he felt like it was only a matter of time until Miguel would laugh at him too. How do they say, pride comes before a fall. But he wouldn't have to deal with this for long. He'd keep spinning his threads and soon people would be begging to get back into his good graces.

***************************** 

Was he cruel? Wasn't he justified? He wasn't sure. He saw Toby fall apart and it would have been a lie if he said he didn't care. He could never not care. But forgiveness was a foreign concept for him. 

***************************** 

"Said, I know we've never been close. You don't trust my motives, I don't trust yours. But Toby needs you now. Needs someone. What I have to offer isn't what he needs right now. And Keller ain't available, so you're the next best choice."  
Said looked at him with surprise, like he'd suddenly seen something he didn't know was there.  
"Yes, I will talk to him."

***************************** 

Then the already battered eco-system of Oz shifted again as McManus lost his job and potentially his mind. And a new guy took over. The new guy, by the name of Querns, had a very different take on things, especially in the ethnograpic direction. The subsequent shift of color ment also a shift in power. And it hit Cyril both unprepared and alone. His brother was out of the business and seemed to be having his own agenda these days (but when did he ever not), while Toby didn't seem to care about much these days except his revenge and his own personal hell with Chris Keller. Meanwhile Cyril had realised that his brother hadn't kept him updated on the business as much as he'd have liked. Now that he was in, he needed to learn the ropes all by himself.

For now, the future looked black.

***************************** 

It hadn't been two days since Querns arrived, when he called a meeting of the leaders. Said. Adebisi. Pancamo. Morales. Toby. And Ryan.  
"You got the wrong guy." Ryan told Querns, when he was lead into the room, where the others were already waiting. "I'm no longer leading the Irish."  
"I've been wrongly informed then." Querns graciously waved Ryan out again. "Who the hell is leading the Irish now then?"  
"That'll be me and Cyril O'Reily." Toby stated.  
"I'll get him." Mineo offered.  
"Yeah, I guess one representative will suffice plenty." Querns turned down the offer.  
"Well, gentlemen, now that we're all on the same page concerning certain management decisions, let's get down to business. I will need the help of all of you to keep this a clean and orderly unit. You will keep your men in order and in exchange I will give you certain priviledges."

****************************

"So, what you say about our new boss?" Ryan asked, when Toby returned from the meeting.  
"He acts easy-going enough. But I have a bad feeling. This guy has his own agenda." Toby gave Ryan a lingering, scrutinizing look that made Ryan wonder whether Toby wasn't as oblivious to everything around him as he acted. "But then, who hasn't these days?"  
Ryan changed the subject quickly. "By the way, we have some of our guys in the same unit as Hank Schillinger now. What do you want to happen to him?"  
"Nothing, yet. I would like to send him back to his father in little pieces, but this game, I have to play carefully. I won't endanger my family further. When Hank dies, and he will, it has to be blamed with one hundred percent certainty on someone else. Schillinger himself has to connect the dots."  
"Whatever you need. I'm there for you."  
"You know Ryan, sometimes I wish that Schillinger had more children, because I would kill them all. And that scares me. It scares me to no end. What have I become? Will I wake up one morning looking in the mirror and seeing Schillinger?"  
"Uh-uh. You're a decent person, you're just at a very bad place. Otherwise you wouldn't even consider all this."

***************************** 

"You need me."  
"No."  
"Yes." Miguel nodded. "You lost both your lead and Toby. If you're pretending Toby is in any working condition, you're just fooling yourself. You're unwilling to work with Cyril. You're up to the neck in driftsand. Control is slipping away. You got no credit with Querns and Adebisi wants blood. You need me now or you'll lose everything. Whatever your big plan is and no matter how good you covered your angles, you can't do it all alone."  
"We had this discussion," Ryan answered wearily.  
"I know I can tell you that I won't slip again, as often as I want. But, think about what I said. Think about it and you'll see it's the only chance we got. All of us. You, me, Cyril. Keller and Toby too."

*****************************

"Beecher, we need to do something about this." Pancamo stated with a dark look towards the table where Adebisi sat with his posse. "Querns is systematically pushing us out." It hadn't started immediately, but now on the daily people got transferred to Unit B, making room for more of Adebisi's friends.  
"I know, and we will do something." So he said, but honestly he didn't much care whether he was in Unit B, C, D or whatever. So far, the tits kept running and whether they'd have to do it from Unit B or Em City didn't really matter. And seriously, it wasn't like Toby needed the money.  
Objectively he realised that his complete disregard for the desintegration of everything he'd fought for was probably a sign of depression if not self-destructive tendencies, but the good part about that was, he didn't care about that observation either. His son was in the ground. That was all the information he was able to take in these days. Still hard to comprehend, hard to believe. He hadn't even been allowed to go to the funeral. Flight risk.

***************************** 

"We need to figure this out." Cyril said. "You don't have the resources to take over all of our business."  
"Give me Beecher and we talk." Adebisi said, smiling brightly.  
"Not gonna happen."  
"Then we have no more business with each other, blondie. Unless you came to suck my dick, that is."  
Cyril turned around and left Adebisi in his drug-induced haze, his laughter following him outside.

"Ryan, what the hell are we supposed to do now?"  
"I have no idea, little brother. But, I'll figure something out." No, he wouldn't. It didn't feel right to lie to Cyril, but he could either help himself or help him. There wasn't something like the best of both worlds. Cyril and him used to have no secrets. All their games were played together. But if he was honest with himself, hadn't he lied to Cyril before? When it was convenient?

"You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"  
Ryan jerked around, having expected his brother to have walked back into the room, not Miguel.  
"And why's that?" Ryan crossed his arms, giving a disinterested smirk.  
"You're not gonna do shit for him. You're too vain for that. You'd rather see the whole gang go down than have it led by someone other than you."  
"Bullshit."  
"That's right. That's bullshit. But, don't worry. I won't tell Cyril."  
"Like he'd believe you."  
"Since he's known you considerably longer than I have, and even I know, it shouldn't be news to him that you're a piece of jackshit that can't be trusted. Well, I won't keep you anylonger from ingnoring or betraying the only people who care about you."  
"Good. And hey, if this Diva-moment was any indication, maybe you should go see Sister Pete and let her dose up your meds."

***************************** 

"No," Cyril was shaking his head angrily. "You don't get to tell me what to do anylonger, Ryan! Who took care of shit, while you and Beecher were too busy with your private lives and Miguel was out cold, huh? You're not running this anylonger! I am. And hell, I deserve it! Who got you the connections in here to begin with?! Who had credit with the hacks?! So, spare me the bullshit, I have enough shit to deal with right now."

***************************** 

"Different times, O'Reily. All bets are off. We run this now. And you, well, you're just the garbage no one's had time to take out jet." The Homeboy smiled at him.  
Ryan licked his lips. "I know Adebisi wants to off Beecher, but me? I doubt he gave you his okay for this."  
"Ah, Adebisi won't mind. It's not like you've got anymore juice with anyone in here."  
"And you think my brother won't mind?"  
"He'll never know who did it, will he?" The guy spun the shank around in his hand.  
"Won't Adebisi be mad that you fuck over Querns no-dead-bodies-policy?"  
"This ain't Em City." The other sneered.  
"Just out of curiousity, any particular reason for this?"  
"Well, shit, O'Reily, maybe you should have paid someone to keep book for you. Than you'd at least still know my name. Let's just say, I haven't forgotten." He advanced on Ryan.  
Ryan scanned his surrounding, looking for escape paths or potential weapons. He wasn't usually in this situation, having to defend himself.  
"Hey, bitch!" Someone suddenly yelled. The homeboy turned around and Ryan took his focus off him too, despite knowing the voice.  
Miguel had a shank of his own in his hand.  
"You come to protect your boyfriend?"  
"Sure." Miguel replied, moving forward quickly. The homeboy dodged him, but Miguel caught him with a punch to the jaw. The man, Ryan still couldn't remember his name, staggered back. Miguel didn't give him time to recover following up with a knee to the stomach, before he buried his shank in the man's throat. He pulled it out again, making sure the spray of blood went in his opposite direction. The challenging look he threw him, didn't escape Ryan. Miguel wiped his fingerprints of the shank, with the dead guy's shirt, before he threw it behind the heater.  
"Sister Pete told me, the meds could make me jittery and unconcentrated. She'll be glad to hear, I experienced none of that." He said completely off-topic.  
Ryan was thrown off any callous remark he had prepared.  
"Good timing." Was all he said.  
"Anytime, baby." Miguel replied, caustically.  
"Pretty good execution too." Ryan added, wondering when he'd started to sound so dumb.  
"You know, I wasn't the leader of the Latinos just because there was no one else at that time." Miguel told him. "At least not only because of that," He added with a smirk.  
Ryan had to chuckle too. They stared at each other for a while longer. Ryan wanted to say something, but seemingly Miguel didn't want to hear anymore, as he turned around and left.  
"Hey, don't tell Cyril!" Ryan found his voice back.  
"Why not?" Miguel asked, turning around again, but not walking back.  
"Just don't."  
"Whatever."

Miguel was too pissed off and turned on, to stay in Ryan's close vincinity anylonger. It was both an unusual and totally disfunctional combination. No matter how pissed off, Ryan would never not affect him. Despite the pissed-offness overweighting these days. Nevertheless he felt a little elated too. They were getting somewhere. Really, really slowly.   
He got it. He'd fucked-up, he had to work for it. But some of these days, he felt like it would be easier to just punch Ryan in the face and call it quits. Today wasn't one of these days.

***************************** 

Whittlesey picked Toby up at Sister Pete's office, taking him back to Em City.  
"What happened to Tim sucks." She told him. Since McManus'd come back from forced sick-leave he had been given the chance to take over Unit B or nothing.  
"I know. We need to do something about that situation."  
Yes, something needed to be done. He'd let things slip, yes. But he still couldn't believe how things could have gone so wrong in so little time. Yes, the Homeboys had been giving them trouble, but now, outright mayhem had broken out.  
The whole Querns situation was getting sticky. Adebisi was slowly taking over Em City and he was still out for blood, because of the whole Peter-story.  
This could turn from precarious to outright fatal pretty fast. There was no love lost between him and the Italians, they didn't give a fuck about Adebisi still wanting to gut him. Morales probably would see it as a chance too. Sad enough, his biggest worry about the Em City situation was that if he was moved to Unit B, he'd lose his pod with Chris.  
And Schillinger... He was a whole other kind of problem. Just killing Hank didn't seem enough. Nothing seemed enough.

***************************** 

They were leaning against the railing, watching over Em City, plotting God knows what. The most dangerous triumvirate in whole OZ. Outwards seemingly unpertubed by the ever-increasing anarchy that had broken out around them, or rather a monarchy, led by Adebisi. Outwardly it seemed like this was just another day. But, currently the peace was disturbed. The tension between Chris and Toby was tangible in the air like electric current. Ryan let out an exasperated sigh.  
"Guys, I don't care what you do in your private time, but out here we can't have your little marital brawl. We have to show unity and strength to the others, not the possibility of falling apart any second."  
"I'm perfectly cool." Chris stated, with a shrug.  
"I don't know what you're worrying about either." Toby agreed.  
"Awesome." Ryan let out sounding anything but thrilled.

***************************** 

"You did that, right?" Miguel's voice sounded in the darkness.  
"Did what?" Ryan asked, making himself sound bored.  
"This." There resonated a laugh from Miguel's bunk. Realisation? Awe? Fear? Ryan couldn't place it. "All of this. You know what I mean. I have to wonder though, how did you get the gun?"  
"How did you know?" Ryan asked, softly.  
"I know you."

***************************** 

Toby was alone in the basketball court, playing by himself. Chris had seen the the three Aryans leave and had followed them. He was watching them from a blind spot, ready to intervene every second. Of course Vern had thought he could take out Toby, now that Em City was short of falling into Anarchy and Toby falling apart. Chris' shank was resting casually in his hand, while he watched them approach, calculating when to step in. The ball hit the first of them, before they'd even realised that Toby'd heard them enter. Only moments later, Toby moved away from the one closest to him, leaving a fine red line on his throat. He casually pushed his kneeling figure out of his way with one foot, while making his way towards the remaining two. The guy just fell backwards, he was making gurgling noises, blood bubbling out of his mouth, both hands grabbing his throat. Okay, Toby really seemed to have a bad day. So far, he didn't seem to be in need of a saviour. Toby smoothly moved forwards, with something like amused curiousity twinkling in his eyes. The third guy came at him with his shank, Toby dodged him, moving behind him, ramming his shank in his side, then he sank his teeth in the guys ear. The severed remains, he spit into the last opponents face, who decided to take that as a cue, to stop approaching and start an unordered retreat. Toby went over to the sink outside the court and rinsed his mouth as well as his shank. Wow, Toby hadn't been in such a wile mood, since he'd bitten off Scott Ross' dick. Chris turned to leave, when Toby coincidentally looked in his direction. Their eyes met. Toby's eyes lit up with a mixture of delighted surprise and hope. Chris kept his face unmoved. They nodded at each other, acknowledging that they both knew why Chris had been here, but that it didn't change anything.

He didn't need Chris. He didn't need protection. Those who deemed him easy prey now would learn their lesson.

***************************** 

"We got two dead Aryans in the gym." McManus stated accusingly.  
Glynn stared at them unhappily, the threat of serious trouble hanging in the air.  
"In the gym," Querns replied, suavely. "not Em City. I don't have any Aryans in my Unit. You should look at your own flock, Tim."

***************************** 

Miguel had just returned from Sister Pete, getting his morning medication.  
"What the hell are they giving you anyway?" Ryan asked.  
"Anti-anxiety medication." Miguel replied casually.  
"Is it working?"  
"I ain't freaked out yet, and there'd be plenty of reasons."  
"Right."  
"Is this you, asking me how I'm doing?" Miguel asked, one eyebrow raised.  
"Maybe." Ryan smirked.  
They stood close and for a moment there was something. An option for this to go differently than it had the past weeks. Then it was gone and they brushed past each other, going their own ways. Ryan knew exactly where he was going. Finding some private space to jerk off.

***************************** 

He needed to stop feeling like this. He needed to stop seeing his dead son. He needed to stop needing Chris. Chris wouldn't make it all better, not this time. In his mangled mind he found only one solution for his problem. One thing to do and he wondered why he hadn't done so earlier. It was easy, barely a snap of his finger. So easy. As easy as it had been for Schillinger.

He didn't feel any different afterwards. Not better, not worse. He only felt once more confronted with the meaninglessness of life. In here. Out there. Did it really make a difference?

***************************** 

Toby looked at the clock. By now the deed was done. A life snuffed out. Bam. Meaningless.

"Hey, Vern, buddy." Toby threw an arm around Schillinger's shoulder. The other man pushed him off, looking at him through narrowed eyes.  
"What do you want, Beecher?"  
"Talk to your son lately? The one who still talks to you that is." He chuckled. "Maybe you should give him a call these days."  
"Beecher! What did you do?"   
"I? Nothing. I did absolutely nothing. But you never know how long you will have with your loved ones, I should know."  
"Is he dead?" Panic had settled in Schillinger's voice.  
"Funny, isn't it? That you would be asking me that question. Why of all people would I know anything about that?" He asked with fake innocence.  
"If he's dead, I will kill every single member of your family! Do you hear me?!" Schillinger screamed, face red, finger pointing at Toby. But Toby could see the desperation in Schillinger's eyes and it was sweet, oh, so sweet.  
"Do you really think I'll let anyone get near them ever again?" Toby asked, the coldness of death having settled over his voice.

It was only a short high, about the time a candy takes to melt on your tongue. Another death changed nothing. Nothing about his boy being dead. Nothing about the deep hole that was eating it's way deeper and deeper inside Toby with each day. Not even a day and all he felt was tired by this additional death. There was no salvation in death. There was just the knowledge that he'd destroyed his family and the knowledge that he had to move on anyway.

*****************************

"Beecher," Pancamo walked towards him, looking somewhat subdued. "Bad news."  
Oh God, please no. Toby's heart almost stopped.  
"Hank Schillinger got transferred before our man got to him."  
What? Toby closed his eyes and had to chuckle softly, when he opened his eyes again Pancamo looked at him like he'd gotten even more crazy.  
"We can try again..." he offered weakly.  
"Don't bother, I'll handle it myself. Outsourcing wasn't a good idea to begin with." He left Pancamo standing there.  
While he walked away, he was still shaking his head to himself. Hank Schillinger. Who gave a fuck? For a second he'd thought something else had happened to the rest of his family. What was a little, worthless, crack-head nazi-fuck compared to that? He might as well live.

***************************** 

At this point he had two chances. Waste away over his loss or get on. He wasn't going to die. He hadn't so far and he wasn't going to. He would protect his remaining children and he would protect his kingdom. And he would get Chris back.

***************************** 

Toby fastened his trousers. Not bothering to hide the dishevelled state of his hair, he left the laundry room. He'd realised by now that just stalling and whining wouldn't bring Chris back to him, so he had to highten the stakes. Additionally a little self-inflicted punishment was never wrong. Said had been consternated when he'd once run in on him and his fuck of the day. He'd basically laughed in his face. What else was he supposed to do. His son got murdered because of him. His exwife had told him, that he'd never again see his remaining children. And his boyfriend had dumped him, again his fault. Chris was all he had left, he had to get him back.

***************************** 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Pancamo asked pissed off. "Get your shit together fast, Beecher. Take a prag if you have to, but stop fucking everything that moves."  
"What's it to you, Chucky?" Toby asked, sounding slightly amused, slightly unnerved, bordering on full-blown pissed-off. Sporting the same detached annoyance towards anything that ripped him out of his the mist of his own thoughts, that had first given him the reputation of being slightly around the bend.  
"You make us all look bad, with this!"  
"You mean otherwise we look good." Toby gave a melodic laugh.  
"You make us look weak. We can't have this now that Adebisi's short of taking over everything." Pancamo snapped. "You make yourself look like you're a bitch." he added in a lower voice, between gritted teeth.  
"Oh, yeah?" Toby's voice had taken a turn for dangerous again. A voice that had often resulted in people loosing teeth or limbs in the past three years. "So,..I look like a bitch to you?" his smile was nearly going from ear to ear now. He took a step towards Pancamo. "Don't be shy." Toby beckoned Pancamo, with a voice that was almost a purr. "Take a closer look."  
Pancamo held Toby's gaze for a moment, before he growled, annoyed.  
"You're a nutjob, Beecher, you know that?"  
"Duly noted." Toby replied drily.  
"Alright, what the hell, walk around in a fucking tutu, if you have to...As long a the tits keep running and you've got your men under control. But if you slip, Beecher, I swear, I'll whack you myself."  
"I don't slip." Toby answered with an icy finality, that showed clearly that the conversation was over.

***************************** 

As fucked-up and disfunctional as everything was right now, it had made him and Miguel get closer again. Not just by necessity either, they weren't the only option the other had. This wasn't about sticking it out together to survive. This was both of them pretending it were the case to have an excuse to try and work it out with each other. To try and trust the other again. To try to get over being hurt and angry.

They were both standing in their pod, Miguel leaning against the sink, Ryan against the bedframe.  
"We haven't hit rock-bottom yet," Ryan told Miguel. "They're uncomfortable, but they're not desperate yet." He realized they hadn't slept with each other, hadn't really kissed since Miguel had collapsed during the boxing match. Wow, that had been months.  
"So, what's the plan?" Miguel asked, arms crossed.  
Ryan leaned forward, planting his lips on Miguel's. That a move like this could be so easy, after all the shit that had went down. Maybe he should have thought about it a little longer though. On the other hand, maybe the whole problem was that he'd spent too much time thinking about this. Miguel grabbed his shoulders, moving away far enough to give him an incredulous stare, holding him there. Ryan felt his heart beating at a speed that was usually reserved for life/death-situations. Then Miguel pushed him against their pod-wall, connecting their lips again. It was a good thing that Miguel wasn't as petty as him.  
After some time they disentangled again, and Miguel smirked at him.  
"So, that's the plan, huh?"

Miguel was weak, fucked-up and broken. But he was still smart enough to see Ryan for who he was. And strong enough to look at Ryan and not turn away in disgust. Or maybe just crazy enough. And really, Ryan was just too hedonistic to deny himself someone who made him feel so good.

***************************** 

Toby knew he had Chris' full attention now, that it came at the expense of having the rest of Em City's attention too, didn't bother him half as much as it should. He was aware of that just as he was aware of how it was. Just as he was aware how wrong and sick their dealing with each other was, always had been.

***************************** 

"Following prisoners are transferred to Unit B with immediate effect. #97P468, Charles Pancamo. #00M871, Enrique Morales. #98P284, Cyril O'Reily."

"With that they effectively emptied the leadership ranks of Em City." Ryan whistled through his teeth.  
"Good that we're no longer on the playing team." Miguel remarked sarcastically.  
"Yeah, jolly good." Ryan said, not changing his grave expression. "And obviously they saw no need to get rid of Toby either."  
"Yeah. The druggie, the ousted and the one who's gone completely bonkers."

Toby watched as his fellow leaders were sent off. He knew there were two reasons why he wasn't among them. For one thing, no one considered him a real threat anylonger, for the other it was a lot easier for Adebisi to kill him while he was in Em City. It was a shame, really. Given the way Querns was giving Adebisi leeway for everything while slapping everybody else's fingers, it probably wouldn't have been the worst idea in the world to move to Unit B. After all, with McManus he got credit.

***************************** 

"Chris, my old pal." Ryan patted Chris on the shoulder. "It's high time we spend some quality time again. 'Shame it's been so long already."  
"Cut the crap, O'Reily. If I wanted to hear annoying chattering I'd be down there watching TV."  
"I have a business-concept that might interest you. It's called 'Ryan and Chris save the world', well, Em City anyway." Ryan grinned.  
"Alright, I'm all ears."  
"Not that I don't appreciated the rich diversity Em City is embracing, but I think it's time we stop having our coffee black and start putting some fucking cream in it."  
"And how are we gonna do that?" Chris was smiling too now.  
"Start a little trouble in paradise. Show Adebisi and Querns that the honeymoon is over. Send a little message that will go all the way to Glynn."  
"You took your sweet time coming up with this plan."  
"You know what they say about delayed gratification."  
"And of course it doesn't hurt that by now your Irish brothers will be desperate to hand you back your old job."  
"Fringe benefits." Ryan shrugged. "And now I want to hear some innovative and competitive ideas from you, K-boy."  
"I can already think of a few."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As alway it would be a lie to say I'm one hundred percent satisfied with the chapter. But I'm happy enough with it as it is. It's always sort of growing into different directions and it's really hard to keep up with all lines of narration, but I'm trying. If you find logical or chronological errors (e.g. Hey, didn't so-and-so die two chapters ago?!) please inform me about it.^^


	12. I bet your life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby and Chris are still at war with each other.  
> Querns is at war with everyone with the wrong skin-color.  
> Ryan is officially at war with no one, even while trying himself at guerilla warfare together with Chris.
> 
> And now, there's going to be a film-crew doing a documentary on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After another 100 years I've finished another chapter. This one nearly killed me.
> 
> Anyway, I'm grateful for anyone who still keeps reading. ;D

Am I out of luck?  
Am I waiting to break?  
When I keep saying that I'm looking for a way to escape  
Oh, I'm wishing I had what I'd taken for granted  
I can't have you and I'm only gonna do you wrong

And then I shot, shot, shot a hole through everything I loved  
Oh I shot, shot, shot a hole through every single thing that I loved

(Imagine Dragons - Shots)

**************************

"Murder! Murder!" Shupe came running out of the laundry room.  
"Hey! We need some help down here!" Ryan yelled across the hall. "Shit, look at all that blood!"

"Hey, Lady Macbeth." Miguel greeted him. "Enjoy yourself?"  
"Tremendously. Since when do you know Shakespeare?"  
"I did graduate highschool, you know."

"Wow," Chris said. "You make me almost look nice and sincere."  
"Don't flatter yourself, Keller." Ryan snorted. "We're both going to hell."  
"Yeah, and I got a feeling they're already missing you down there."  
"Cute. Remember, you were the guy who broke his boyfriend's arms and legs. There's almost no way for me to top that."  
"I only broke his arms."  
"Oh, yeah, right! I knew that."  
"Like you're one to talk. You started a race war, practically backstabbed your brother and machinated several killings in here."  
"For one thing, you were the one doing the killing. And for another, you just came back from killing your boyfriend's last fuck."

****************************

They snarled at each other like two tigers, prowling around each other. As deadly as they were together, they were while fighting. Only now the wiplash of their fights could hit anyone standing too close. Casualties were on the daily. No one had expected this to end any different. And whether they clashed in love or war, clash they would again sooner or later. That everybody knew.

*****************************

Chris felt the knife slide into Shemin's body, again and again. It wasn't enough in the long run, but it would have to suffice for now.

But, hey, he took what he'd get. They'd see who'd run out first. Chris out of guys to kill, or Toby out of guys to fuck. What point he was trying to make, he wasn't sure anylonger.

***************************** 

Toby looked at Shemins bloodied body as they took him out. He should have felt sorry, he knew this would happen. But he didn't care. His eyes were on Chris. They stared at each other over the trail of blood Shemin's body left behind. Both of their eyes spoke of the same. I can't take it anymore! I can't take it! I can't take it!

***************************** 

He had realised pretty fast what Ryan and Chris were doing. Combining the necessary with the pleasant. It was as good a way as any to stirr up shit for Querns. And what a great opportunity for Chris to take out the targets of special interest to him.  
It didn't matter. Toby's plan was working. If it culminated in getting rid of Querns, even the better.

***************************** 

"You gotta stop this man. I mean, kudos for the mind-fuck you're running. But Keller is going crazy like this. Watching you fuck all those guys and then sleeping in the same pod with you at night."  
"That's exactly the intended effect."  
"Yeah, maybe. But I need cunning-Keller, not love-crazy Keller, to work with. Times are as dire as could be. And we need to be alert right now. We need to be functioning." That was only partly correct, since love-crazy Keller was working pretty good for him right now, but those two needed to get it together anyway. Not just because he needed Toby functioning again as soon as he'd reestablished his spot with the Irish. Toby was his friend and he hadn't been there for him through all this. Not enough. What had happened to Toby was about the worst that could happen to anyone. Ryan didn't need to have kids of his own to understand that. That Toby had gotten out of it with most of his mental faculties intact, was maybe, ironically, partly owed to this shit with Chris. Had given him something to concentrate on, instead of just falling deeper and deeper.  
"Don't worry, he won't snap or something. And I don't let my personal shit effect my work."  
"Your word in God's ear."

During all their talk they'd kept up their masks of casual boredom. No one who watched them gathered the depths of Toby's turmoil, or Ryan's concern. They all just saw the two key players of OZ plotting, slightly amused by all the plain-minded pawns out there, who'd never grasp even half of their schemes.

***************************** 

They passed each other on their way to breakfast. Toby had fucked Mondo just last night and then once more in the morning just before the lights came back on. Close enough that Chris had still been able to watch them move apart, in the first fluoroscent flares of the new morning.  
He walked closer past Chris than necessary. But, then, they did everything more than necessary, with each other. He walked past him, deliberately. Not just brushing, a solid presence for a moment. Upper arms and thighs connecting. Close enough to smell the other. A position that could have been interpreted as aggressive, territorial, when it was so obviously sexually provocative, so obviously charged with desire. Their eyes meeting, gazes interlocked in a dark battle of wills.

***************************** 

"It's a fact Beecher." Adebisi pointed out. "You fucked Shemin and now he's dead."  
"So what?" Beecher shrugged leaning back in his chair. "I fucked him. He was lousy." he nodded to Brown. "If I killed every guy who's been a bad fuck, Mondo here would be dead too."  
"Hey, you better watch it–" Mondo started.  
"Cut it out, Charlie Brown." Toby stopped him. "You've fullfilled your single purpose and not very good at that. If your threats are as flattering as your other traits, you should rather keep them to yourself. Me and your daddy are trying to have a conversation here."  
Mondo might have wanted to say someting more, but Adebisi cut him short.  
"Shut the fuck up, Mondo." He turned back to Toby, disgust clear on his face. "And that guy before him?" He turned to Mondo. "What was his name?"   
"Watson." Toby supplied, helpfully.  
"Right." Adebisi nodded. "You'll find the murderer. Or I'll have Querns transfer you to Unit B."  
"Boohoo. It's not like I need to be here to run my business. Don't get your panties in a twist, Adebisi. I'll make inquiries" Toby got up and left the room.

***************************** 

Chris watched Toby every day, every second of the day. And even when he didn't see him, he thought about him. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. The feelings were supposed to go away. But they didn't. While he was standing over Mondo Brown's corpse he wanted to scream 'All for you Toby! All for you!'. But he knew, Toby knew already. He'd planned it, driven him to this, voluntarily. And wasn't that exactly what he would have done in Toby's place?

***************************** 

Brown was dead too. And Toby had caused it. He couldn't pretend he hadn't known it would happen. But he couldn't stop this fucked-up game either. He had to either get his peace of mind back or Chris. And since the first wasn't going to happen in the foreseeable future, Chris it was. He had to get him back, anyway, anyhow. They had been wrong from the beginning. Toby wished this kind of love on no one. It ate him up, inside. It wasn't supposed to feel that way. Was it really worth it, to hurt like this, for the few highs he got out of it? It was. It was. It was. Toby had destroyed his family because of Chris. If he'd taken Judge Lima's offer, his son wouldn't have died. But he hadn't been able to leave. When had he ever been able to say no to a high?

***************************** 

"Things are looking bad." Pancamo said as they talked during breakfast, one of the few times they still had the chance to. "We're out of Em City and in Unit B you can't catch even one quiet minute. Either there's hacks or Aryans."

***************************** 

"A shipment was taken. We assume Homeboys." Toby told him. "But I guess you already know that, Ryan."  
"Are you going to tell Cyril?"  
"No." Toby smiled. "My fealty is with you."  
"You don't owe me fealty, Toby. We're both kings."  
"But, Ryan, there are certain games you shouldn't be playing. He's your brother."  
Toby was right, of course. But there was no point in starting a game if you didn't plan on following through. 

***************************** 

"People are getting antsy." Cyril said with a frown.  
"This won't go on forever. With Querns it might. But Adebisi is far too unstable to not fuck up in the long run. Probably just because he's bored."  
"Maybe. But it might still be too long for us to survive."  
"When did I ever dissappoint you, Cyril. Trust me. I have a plan."

"It's hard to understand that someone could know you so well and still have faith in you." Miguel said.  
"You of all people?" Ryan laughed. "You trust me too."  
"I guess, we both just hope that you love us enough to save us in the end."  
"I am able of genuine feelings, you know."  
"Sure. Greed. Envy. Pride. Anger." Miguel laughed. "I know you are, Ryan. Maybe you are just more honest than the rest of us. Admitting outright, that in the end it's every man for himself."

******************************

"Why would I kill the people I fuck?" Toby asked, displaying mild exasperation.  
"So, maybe your boyfriend." Querns mused.  
"You are one smart cookie, aren't you? How about you look at your own brothers?" Really, Querns was a lot smarter than many of the men who'd walked in here in the last few years, thinking they were God's answer to the penal system.  
"That's it, Beecher. You're going to Gen Pop."  
Why prolonging it anylonger. They both knew it was going to happen. It would be interesting how Chris would take it. Toby smiled. Ryan probably hadn't expected it either.

Chris still looked in the direction Toby'd left in.  
"Shit." He said. "I didn't anticipate that."  
"Doesn't matter." Ryan said, grimly. "That's only temporary. We stick to the plan." He faced Chris, holding his gaze. "Right, Keller? We're going to continue exactly as planned."  
"Sure." Chris shrugged, hands in his pockets, gaze already edging closer to direction Toby had vanished in.

******************************

"Looky there, Beecher."  
"Vern, how are you doing, in these dramatic days of black-enpowerment? I hope you haven't gone back to wetting your bed."  
"You better watch your back, Bitcher. You're in my territory now."  
"Shouldn't we concentrate on what ties us together in these days," Cyril said, stepping up beside Toby. "Like– our skin color."

He always had to watch his back, in Em City just as well as here. At least now he knew exactly where the threat was coming from. Even though him and Schillinger in the same unit was probably the worst combination possible.  
He wasn't scared though. What was a man to be scared of, when he'd just buried his own child? Toby wouldn't die in here. He was too good for that. There was nothing arrogant about admitting that. Toby had had many hard and long lessons. He'd graduated with summa cum laude here too, just like in the real world.  
He felt almost bad for McManus. The worst of Oz piled up in this garbage can for everything Querns had sweeped out. They could almost pick up business the way they left off, with the whole team reunited again.

******************************

They hadn't seen much of each other, except during mealtimes. Getting some distance to reflect over things had obviously not worked for them. What a surprise. Neither had worked out any of his hurt-feelings. Nevertheless, it would have been a lie to pretend they'd run into each other here by accident. They'd both purposefully circled ever the more closer to each other, until they'd once more managed to catch the other on his own. And of course they wouldn't try to work things out. No, everything spun out of the spectrum of sane and constructive far too quick. As usual.

"Do you think I fuck all these guys because I want to?!" Toby was screaming at him, close to tears, yet mad as hell. "I want you! Only you!"  
Before Toby could punch him again, Chris caught his wrists.  
"Fuck you, Toby." Chris voice was low and husky. Toby struggled in his grip. "Stop making a spectacle of yourself." In response Toby bit in one of Chris' hands, having him jerk away.  
"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!"  
"Yeah, just flush your reputation down the toilet. What do I care?"  
"But you do care." Toby assessed, more snarling than speaking.  
"I only care about my job. Can't have the Irish losing jizz because of you."  
"Keep telling yourself."  
"Just because I maybe want to fuck you, doesn't mean I love you." Chris shrugged.  
Toby let out a hard, angry laugh.  
"I destroyed my family because of you." Toby said, gaze wild and gone as if he was on drugs. He took a step forward, fingers splayed out against Chris' chest, pushing. "Because I can't let go of you. I don't even want to try." He laughed. "Because I go insane without the way you make me feel. The high you give me. All the shit you put me through. Even now. I can't let go. Because I've never felt like this before. And I'm afraid I never would again. Because what you give is more than what you take away." He advanced further on Chris, backing him against the wall. "And isn't that sick?" He leaned closer. Mouth teasingly close to Chris'. "So, when you tell me, all you want is to fuck me, all I can do is laugh." He ran the tip of his tongue over Chris' lips. "And I'll play your game, Chris. I'll play it. And we'll see who loses bigger." Now it was Chris' hand that came up behind Toby's head pulling him the rest of the way. They pushed and pulled, a continuous back and forth, without letting go of the other, mirroring the main theme of their entire relationship. Rutting against the wall, barely bothering to push clothes out of the way. It was too late now to bother with thinking.  
And still they managed to let go of each other in the aftermath. Backing away as if burned. Even though it was the last either of them wanted to do. But then neither of them was a good sport.

***************************** 

Everything was at the brink of disaster. As McManus would say, 'before we all join hands and jump'. And Querns had decided it was a good time to do a documentary realistically portraying present-day life in prison.

"Is he out of his mind? How the hell is anyone going to keep their feet still?"

******************************

"Tobias Beecher is still in Oz, right?" The reporter asked. "We were told he is in this unit."  
"He was transferred to another unit recently." Querns replied, smiling, yet clearly impatient.  
"Well," The reporter made a face. "that won't do. We counted on him being here. He's a big part of our feature."  
Querns and the reporter fought a staring match, ending with Querns long-suffering sigh.  
"I guess, I could transfer him back for the time being."  
"Splendid."

******************************

"Look who's back!" Ryan exclaimed, laughing, pulling Toby into a hug. "My man."

Toby remembered Querns' words very vividly. 'Anything happens, while the film crew is there, I'll bury you somewhere so deep no one's even going to remember you're still interred here.'

******************************

There's no way this was going to end anything but bad.

******************************

Everyone had their plans. So had Said. Toby didn't tell him about what Chris and Ryan were doing, when Said told him about his plan. It was dangerous. But Said listened about as much to Toby's warnings as Toby listened to Said's.

And while many different parties worked to shift the disequilibrium that had become Em City, Chris' and Toby's very personal disequilibrium shifted again.

"So, you're Tobias Beecher. I'm Ronnie," The guy extended his hand with a smile.  
"Good to meet, you." Toby smiled, taking the offered hand. He'd seen Ronnie and Chris talk ealier. This was going to be fun.

******************************

"What is it now, Chris? You gonna kill everyone who fucks me? You gonna kill your old pal Ronnie?"

*****************************

Chris had turned the tables in a way, Toby hadn't anticipated. It made Toby burn with rage and jealousy when he saw Chris and Ronnie together. Knowing what they did in the privacy of a storage room. He maybe still had his claws in Chris, forcing him to stay in his pod, but there was nothing he could do against this. A howling maelstrom of desperation and frustration was forming in his insides, threatening to break out. And break out it would. His heart was screaming: I hate you I hate you I hate you please take me back!

***************************** 

Ryan looked at Toby with something like concerned resignation.  
"Whatever you do, Beech. Try not to get caught on camera, doing it."  
"I won't be the one doing anything."

******************************

"Gentlemen, I'm looking for some background information on a Tobias Beecher, his relationship with Vernon Schillinger."  
"Shit, I ain't gonna talk about that!"  
"Are you crazy?"  
"Ain't no one in here gonna talk about that."  
"Yo, lady, no one in here looking forward to kicking the bucket."

Logan looked back at the group of criminals who had just refused to talk to them and where now assembled around the TV.  
"So, this Beecher story - you think it has legs?"   
"Oh, yeah," Eldridge smirked. "Usually the less people are willing to say, the better the story. I've just got to figure a way in."

******************************

"Is there a lot of homosexual activity, Mr. Keller?"  
"Well, by "homosexual" do you mean deep-rooted love of one man for another, or guys fucking guys in the ass?"  
"Have you?"  
"What? Fucked a guy up the ass, or fallen madly-passionately in love?"  
"Either. Both."  
"Tobias Beecher."   
"You saying, you were in a sexual relationship with him?"  
"I'm saying, I was in a relationship with him."

******************************

Moving around each other, all eyes on them. Waiting when the first one will snap in front of the cameras. Chris was aware that something was going to snap while Eldridge was around. This was their chance to get rid of Querns. But it felt more and more like he was the one snapping. Being snapped into two clean pieces by Toby. It felt hard at times to remember what exactly they were playing these games for.  
Everything he did with Ronnie felt like a sad travesty of the things he'd done with Toby. When every move, every gesture, every touch that was aimed to hurt Toby was at the same time hailing his feelings for him. Twisted worship of Toby and everything that came with him.

******************************

"Okay. You came to Oswald in 1997 as the result of a DUI and vehicular manslaughter conviction."  
"Uh-huh."  
"Prior to that, you were a successful lawyer from a prominent family, with a wife and two children. How has being in prison changed you? "  
"It made me see a lot of things about myself clearer."  
"What about criminal activities? Have you taken part in them, since you've come here?"  
"Like what?"  
"Like trafficking drugs? It is said that you've taken over most of the drug trade in here. Is that what it takes to survive?"  
"If you've read my file, you know that at one point I had my arms and legs broken. Does that sound to you like I have any power in here?"  
"So, you're saying these rumors are false?"  
"As it often goes with rumors."  
"Why is it then, the other men we interviewed were reluctant to talk about you?"  
"Some people are just a little more cagey than others."  
"We couldn't find a single person to talk to us about Christopher Keller and Vernon Schillinger. Tell me about your relationship with them."  
"Oh, that's simple. At one point, Christopher Keller used to be my lover. At another point, I used to be Schillinger's sex slave. Does that answer your question? See, now there's no more need to harrass any of my fellow inmates with questions they feel uncomfortable answering."

"What the fuck, Tobes?" Ryan exclaimed.  
"I didn't really feel like lying about all this shit."

They'd wanted a story, they'd gotten it. Toby was so tired. Tired of watching Chris flaunting Ronnie into his face. Tired of Chris' grin that still seemed to say that he thought he was going to leave this as the victor. When Toby saw the unshaved face, the tense line of his jaw, the sleep-deprived eyes, even while his mouth still spun lies and pretty tales, fooling everyone around them, everyone except the person they were aimed at. Ronnie was just another piece of colleteral damage, used by both of them. A ball played back and forth between them.

******************************

Just looking at him, across the circle of chairs, watching him as he took in all of the room, as he sucked the light out of them room. And surely the camera must have been following him, just as Toby's eyes did. His body, his eyes, his fucking self-satisfied smirk, it all was just there so Toby would see it. It all belonged to Toby. Chris flaunted himself there for Toby to see. And Toby would watch. Would watch, when it was all he could do these days.  
Both of them reaching out to the other with barbed wires wrapped around their hands, just as around their tongues. Leaking some of the poison out of them, hoping they would be able to close up the cracks afterwards and not break completely. Here. Right now. Facing each other over the circle of chairs.

******************************

"So, Ryan. Is it okay, if I call you Ryan?"  
"Sure, Jack. After all, we go way back."  
"So, can you tell us about being gay in prison?"  
"Why would I?"  
"Oh, so, it isn't true that you received harrassment about being in a homosexual relationship with another inmate." Eldridge looked back into his files. "Who also attempted suicide because of these reasons."  
"You know shit."  
"So, it is true. Why don't you tell us your version of the story?"  
"Why don't you fucking drop dead?"   
"We might also interview your love-interest later. Miguel Alvarez, was it?"  
"Do whatever you want." Ryan crossed his arms, an disgusted expression on his face.

******************************

"So this evening, here we are, at Oswald Penitentiary." Eldrige turned to Cyril. "What do you do before lights out?"  
"Wait." Cyril smiled at Aldrige.  
"For what?"  
"The lights to go out."  
"And then?"  
Cyril's smile broadened. "I say my prayers, and sleep."  
"And what do you pray for?"  
Cyril crossed his arms behind his head, lying more comfortably on the bed.  
"I pray to Jesus, that Ryan will be safe, and Aunt Brenda, and my daddy, and to take care of my mama in heaven."  
"Your mother died?"  
"Years ago, in the hospital." Cyril continued, never taking his eyes off Eldrige. "I hate hospitals. I hate the smell. Of hospitals. And the medicine tastes bad." Cyril paused. "You, know, I know you. Do you remember me?"  
"We've met, years ago, when you were fifteen. You and your brother and I, we talked about your lives in the gang."  
"You made my mama sad. You made her cry. You made us look real bad on camera. She didn't live much longer after that."  
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But, it's not like I twisted the truth there."  
"No, of course not. Let bygones be bygones, right?" Cyril offered his hand.  
Eldridge took it, after a moment. Cyril's teeth gleemed white in the dark.

***************************** 

"Ronnie is going to sell you out to the FBI, Chris."  
"Come on, Toby. That's pathetic, even for you. Are you that desperate to get me back?"  
"Do with it what you want." Toby shrugged tensely. "I just thought, I should let you know."

***************************** 

"Hey Ronnie," Toby smiled, "you wanted to know about your case, right?"  
"Yeah, thanks man! I owe you."  
"You sure do."  
"So how are my chances?"  
"We see about that if I'm satisfied with my payment." Toby led him to the supply closet. Chris' place. He'd fucked him there. 

Toby panted into Ronnie's ear, "You should know, Chris never loved you. He still loves me and he always will."

*****************************

The cameras stayed trained on the body-bag, as the COs wheeled it away, never once straying from it.  
"Jesus, Toby." Ryan groaned.

"That's it, Beecher!" Querns hissed.  
Toby just waved at him, smilling complacently, as the hacks dragged him off to solitary. Querns was done for. McManus really owed him now.  
They passed Chris on their way out of Em City. Their eyes met. He saw only shock in Chris' eyes. A mind frantically scrambling for a reason. Neither of them said a word.

Toby spent two weeks in the hole, pondering on what awaited him once he got back to Em City. And he knew he would.   
Maybe it would even be nice to catch a break from everything for a little while. If only it didn't imply being on his own for too long. He had enough ghosts haunting him and it seemed to become more and more with every passing day.  
He had killed a man to protect a serial killer. Ronny had been no monster. Just a small-time crook. All he had done was make a deal. No one could fault him for that, even though people were killed for a lot less in here. According to prison rules, Toby had been perfectly in his rights. But when looking at the rules that applied in the normal world, Chris was the monster. Four men. Raped and brutally killed. Who would give them justice?  
Toby felt guilty, yes. But he would do it all over again, without hesitation. It hadn't even felt like such a big step. It had felt... inevitable.

*****************************

"News anchor Jack Eldridge became a part of his own story yesterday. Only days after leaving the Oswald State Penitentiary, where he'd shot a relevatory piece on the present day prison system, revealing the misconduct of the current warden of an experimental unit, for which he received all-over praise, despite some calling it a ratings stunt, Eldridge was killed in a street mugging.  
His last piece that featured among others, interviews with convicted murderer Cyril O'Reily and alleged former-lawyer-turned-gangleader Tobias Beecher, will be aired again tonight, in memory of a great voice in the field of investigative journalism. So, stay tuned."

*****************************

Adebisi cornered Said in their shared pod, after Querns had been officially relieved of his command over Em City.

"You helped them. You all worked together on this." Adebisi said. "You all planned together to destroy me."  
"Does that mean you're gonna kill me?"  
"Kill you? Why would I? It doesn't matter that you took this away from me. I had everything. Everything I need. Every love satisfied, and it wasn't enough. It'll never be enough."  
"Because you were looking for the wrong things, my friend. Remember what you said, between the pair of us, we can do great things for our people."  
"But for what? We're still in Oz."  
"What we need, what sustains us, is not in the things we can touch. Hunger. Thirst. Carnal desire. Those will sustain our mortal vessel. Never our minds, our souls, my brother." Said puts his hands on Adebisi's shoulders, holding his gaze with intensity. "But our souls are what makes us out. And yours, my brother, yours has been starved. It is time to starve your body and nourish your soul. Let go of all your base desires, that will never fill you and you will find that it doesn't matter whether you're in Oz."

***************************** 

"What the hell." Ryan stared straight ahead like he couldn't believe his eyes.  
"Who'd have guessed." Miguel said, not able to hide a snicker. As mean as it was, it was nice to see one of Ryan's plans not working out for once. "I guess the big blowup has to happen with someone else."

Toby had ruined things with Querns too fast and Adebisi was suddenly completely out of the game. The Homeboys were leader-less and at disarray. The old leaders were back at Em City. And all of Ryan's efforts had been for naught.

***************************** 

Familiar faces all around. McManus nodded at Toby. Funny enough it had been him who'd ultimately brought Querns' fall, when Chris and Ryan had been the one working so hard.

Said came to greet him, among his peers Toby's eyes came to rest on Adebisi. Really? He couldn't believe this change to last for long. Adebisi would always be a wild-card. He would always be a threat for as long as he drew breath.

******************************

Chris awaited him in their shared pod.

"You killed him?" Chris asked. "Why?" After two weeks that question seemed to still eat away on Chris.  
"He was your friend. I wanted to spare you the guilt of having killed him." Because he'd known that Chris would eventually do it. No matter how he'd acted around Toby, he knew at the bottom line Chris would always trust him.  
"You're so fucked up." Chris said, still marveling. He knew what that must have cost Toby. To kill with his own hands. In cold blood. Another step had been irrevertably crossed. For him. "Why would you do something like this for me?" He reached up one hand, touching Toby's cheek. Toby never let his eyes stray away from Chris', leaning into his touch. Chris slowly leaned forward, without even realising it until his lips met Toby's. Chris' eyes widened in surprised, mirroring the look in Toby's. Toby's hands sprang forward grabbing his head, preventing him from moving away again. But Chris realised, he had no intention to do so. His hand, that wasn't resting on Toby's face, moved towards it's inherent place on Toby's neck. Toby let out a shuddering sigh. And in that moment Chris was more sure than ever, that he'd never again let someone else touch Toby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This basically finishes off season 4, even though it's not exactly complient to the series, but at this point there are just too many changes. For season 5, I have a lot of partially sketched ideas. But basically I'm still breaking my head over it.
> 
> Actually, originally Ryan was supposed to have the lead of the Irish back, at the end of this chapter. But, well, then things turned out very differently.^^


	13. Ain't no God on my streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adebisi is no longer leader of the Homeboys.  
> Ryan is still not back in the lead of the Irish.  
> Toby still hasn't taken revenge on Schillinger.
> 
> But, at the bottom line family is the biggest problem of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter. It helped that I supported my sister while she wrote an essay about Hegemonic masculinity in Oz for a gender studies course.^^
> 
> I'm really sorry, I'll try to finish this story now. There'll be only about three more chapters.

****

Statues and empires are all at your hands  
Water to wine and the finest of sands  
When all that you have's turnin' stale and it's cold  
Oh, you no longer fear when your heart's turned to gold

I'm dying to feel again  
Oh, anything at all  
But, oh, I feel nothing, nothing, nothing

(Imagine Dragons - Gold)

****

"Fuck you, Chris! No! Fuck you! I'm done! I'm done!"

They'd had a row again. Surprise, surprise. Ryan and Cyril were leaning at the wall of their pod looking into the night (well, more like the flourocent-lighted semi-darkness of Em City), eyeing Toby and Chris' pod with a mixture of annoyance and trepidation.  
"Some things just never change." Ryan sighed with good-natured resignation.  
"No matter what it's been about this time, I'm not switching pods." Cyril stated.  
"Yeah, we should just leave them together in there and wait who walks out alive afterwards." Ryan agreed.

Toby was leaning against the sink, staring down at his problem sleeping the sleep of the just.  
He had a meeting with Pancamo and Redding tomorrow, together with Cyril, he needed his sleep.  
At moments like this, Toby hated his confinement in OZ more than ever. No privacy, no rest.  
He must always keep it together, he could never let those fights affect him as much as they really did, in front of all the others. And in Em City you were always in front of all the others.

"Are they making out yet?" Ryan asked from his bunk.  
"Nope, not yet." Cyril assessed, arms crossed, from his position at the window.  
"Why are you even watching?" Miguel asked, not bothering to look up from his book.

******************************

"I'm sorry, Chris." Toby was gnawing his lower lip.  
"Oh yeah? I thought we were over." Chris looked unimpressed.  
"You know I didn't mean it."  
"Do I?" Chris pushed into Toby's space. "Well, maybe you can make it up to me?"  
Toby didn't back away, but got even closer, their noses almost touching. "Yeah, well maybe I will." A smirk and short squeeze of Chris' crotch, then Toby was off to his meeting.

******************************

The Homeboys hadn't stayed leaderless for long. Another shark had entered McManus' fish bowl.  
Burr Redding was the new player on the field. Old friend of Augustus. Toby didn't yet know what to make of him. He knew that he was dangerous though. And right now he couldn't use anymore enemies. Since Em City had returned to it's normal flow, all the old grudges had been picked up again, exactly where they'd been left off. That included those of the others just as well as Toby's own. Some of his balance had been restored with the reconciliation with Chris. For better or worse. And Toby had some real doubts that Chris made a better person of him. And for what it's worth, he still wanted to see Schillinger bleed.

******************************

Ryan wasn't done by a long shot. All he needed to do was to shake a few more bunnies from his sleeve, or in this case, dead bodies. His position in life had never had anything to do with luck (if anything he'd had a huge pile of bad luck dropped on him), he had worked for it. Maybe differently than most people would define it, but work all the same.   
It was all a question of how far he could go without actually hurting Cyril. Miguel and Toby would both disapprove, but they would let him fare anyway. Keller would probably even help him, and use it against him afterwards.

******************************

"The mother of your granddaugther died, I heard, Vern." Toby took the spot beside Schillinger in the food line. "Jewel's going to live with her grandparents I heard. Imagine something was going to happen to those poor people. Jewel would end up in foster-care. Maybe a nice latino family or maybe even black. You know how it goes for foster-care children. She'd be hooked on drugs before she'd reach puberty, hell, she'd probably have a pimp at thirteen." He patted one of the Nazi goons, who were standing beside them, on the cheek and walked off with a smile.

******************************

"We need to do something about the Beecher-Schillinger-situation." Glynn stated, setting his cup of coffee down as heavily as himself.  
"What's to be done?" Mineo shrugged.  
"We could do interaction sessions between them." Sister Pete suggested.  
"Yeah, because the victim-offender program has worked so well before." Whittlesey snorted. "Beecher is out for Schillinger's blood and vice versa. And seriously, who of us wouldn't stand clapping on the sidelines if Beecher took Schillinger down?"   
Reproachful looks from both McManus, Sister Pete and Father Mukada. Glynn's lack of response showed exactly his implicit agreement with her words.  
"Said is someone they both have respect for." McManus said suddenly. "Schillinger doesn't like him, but he respects him."

"Tobias I wanted to ask you, whether you would consider having interaction sessions with Said and Schillinger."  
Toby laughed surprised.  
"Why would you want that?"  
"It is an attempt to diffuse the current tension inside Oz, surely you see the point."  
"Why would I do that?" Toby's voice was a little amused and little compassionate for Sister Pete's naivety.  
"If not for the benefit of all, maybe for the fact that it would look good an your rapsheet. You still do want to get paroled, don't you?"  
"Of course I do!" Toby was angry now. Of course he wanted to get out. He'd just forgotten how close he was already. So much had happened, he hadn't realised it had already been five years. Of course he wanted back to his family! Of course, he wanted to have his life back! "Okay, I'll do it. I can't promise you I won't be making it worse, though."  
"You trying is all I'm asking for."

******************************

"Kareem!" Toby intercepted Said on his way to the mess-hall. As always, Adebisi was at his side. "I just got the information that the Aryan Brotherhood is planning an attack on you. They have a new guy, Wolfgang Cutler. He wants to earn his entry by killing you."  
"I see."  
"Watch out, yes?"  
Said just smiled. Toby sighed, heavily. Said wasn't stupid. He could take care of himself. He had said his piece and there was nothing else to do on the matter. Said wouldn't take kindly to Toby patronizing him. They were never shy to offer help to the other unasked, if he needed it. But currently Said didn't need his help.

******************************

"Where is your perpetual sidekick, Kareem?" Toby asked him, when they met in the library.  
"I haven't seen him since lunch."  
Toby had a bad feeling. He didn't trust Adebisi as far as he could throw him and he doubted that Adebisi's conversion to Said's ways was anymore sincere than Said's conversion to his ways had been back then.

"I want you to find him and I want you to keep and eye on him at all times. If he reconnects with his Homeboys buddies, if he snorts coke or takes a shit, I don't care." Toby told Callaghan.

Callaghan found Adebisi in the seclusion of the clothes storage.  
"Let the man go, Simon." Said said.  
"No." Adebisi said to Said. "If you believe in something, you have to fight for it." He snapped Cutler's neck.

"You can send him away or you can accept that you can't change him." Toby said. "You didn't have a problem cutting Mersha loose, back then."  
"I refuse to accept defeat."  
Toby had to readjust his view of Adebisi, but so did Said. Quite a wolf he'd brought into his flock. He had made Adebisi follow him, but could he change him? Or was it the other way around?

*******************************

"We need the Latinos to take the fall on this one," Ryan explained to him. "We mustn't be connected with this."  
Miguel crossed his arms, mouth twisted in a displeased and slightly bored expression.  
"Can't do that."  
"Because?" Ryan frowned. "You're so fucking busy right now, or what?"  
"The Latinos aren't your fucking toy-box whenever you need a scapegoat or something."  
"What the fuck, Miguel?"  
"I'm doing exactly the same as you. I'm trying to get back with my people. I'm a fucking laughing stick as it is. And no matter what we are, I'm not one of yours. I'll have to try and become one of my own again."

******************************

"Tobias, who are these men, hanging around our house, following Holly to school?"  
"It's for your safety, dad."  
"These men are criminals! Have you become a criminal?"  
"No, of course not! I just try to keep all of us alive."

******************************

"Morales wants me out. He doesn't make it obvious, but I know." Miguel said gravely. "We need to do something about it."  
"You shipped that onto yourself, Miguellito." Ryan said. "You wanted to get back in. You didn't honestly expect Morales would be happy about that?"  
"Yeah, yeah, Ryan. Tell me all about how stupid I am and how you always knew better."  
"I did and you are." Ryan shrugged. "Facts, baby."

"Beecher, we need to talk."  
Toby got up and followed Ryan to his pod, leaving Chris and Cyril behind at their game of cards.  
"We need to finish Morales off. He's become a threat to Miguel."  
"I see."

******************************

His father looked gravely at him across the table.  
"I'm not going to endanger the children like that. I'm taking them away from here."  
"You...You can't." Toby lost his composure for a split second.  
"I will. We've all agreed on it. Your mother, Angus, Gene and me."  
"They are my children. You can't take them away from me."  
"You've lost the right to those children the moment you put your need for alcohol over their well-being. We all tried, Tobias. We tried to give you a second chance, but you've only gotten worse. We don't know you anymore."  
A slightly hysteric laugh escaped Toby's mouth.  
"You can't mean that."  
"Tobias, you're mother is scared of you."  
"Please..."  
His father only shook his head, sadly.   
"I'm getting parole soon. I'll be out of here. Thing's will be like they were before."  
Now the sadness in his father's face was replaced by something else and he snorted. A sound, Toby couldn't remember ever having heard from his father.  
"Are you telling me, you will change once you're out here? Things will never be fine again, Tobias. Gary is dead. And you won't take this family down with you."  
The despair drained from Toby's face, as he'd forced himself so many times before.  
"They are my children. I won't let you take them."  
"Don't be so selfish!"  
"Don't, dad," Toby shook his head, "don't make me..." His face had become dangerous. One out of his elaborate set of masks, he'd never before used on his family.  
His father only now seemed to see what Toby was about. His face turned white and he looked at Toby as if he'd never seen him before.  
"I'll make sure to take them as far away from you as possible. And maybe someday you will see reason and work for being a part of this family again. Not, before you've cut all ties to those people."  
"You can't run from me, father. I will find you, wherever you go."  
"Guard!"

He'd just threatened his own father. He had lost his family. His mother was scared of him. Toby only waited until the hack left him alone on the floor leading back to Em City. Then he sank to the floor and started crying.

Chris just came back from the gym, when he found him.  
"Come on," He pulled him up from the floor, shielding him from sight. "Not here in public, Toby."  
Toby clung to Chris, not moving otherwise.  
"Fuck, Toby." He rubbed Toby's neck, soothingly, just holding on to him.

******************************

It had been years since he'd seen Gene the last time, not just terse phone conversations about the children. She was pale, but neatly dressed as always. It wasn't even the visitor room. It was that room with the telephones and the glass walls between visitor and inmate. The same room he'd met Kathy Rockwell's parents in.  
"You are the reason our son is dead. You. You alone killed our child. And I will be damned if I let you kill Holly and Harry."  
That's all she said. Not even giving him the chance to answer, she hung up, got her purse and left.

******************************

He had two opportunities now, send men after his father and keep his family by force, endangering his children further. Or let them go and sink back into misery.

What was left for him? He could fully embrace the life of a criminal now. His father had told him to come back to his senses. But what was there to come back to? He would lie if he pretended he didn't enjoy what he did. The power. More absolute than in the court room. More primal and absolute.  
As long as he was in here, there was no going back to his old ways anyway. He'd be dead in less than a day.

******************************

He had made the right decision. Threatening his own father that had been the one last line he should have never crossed. It showed how far gone he really was. How necessary it was that they stayed away from him.

If he'd cared for his family he should have stopped drinking in the first place. The death of Gary was on his head and he had no right to make a claim on any of them.

Right now, going back to alcohol seemed like a tempting solution for his problems. He could get whatever he wanted in here.

******************************

"Because this it what we do, Ryan! We don't care if the people closest to us get hurt, because the high is just too good! We can't give up the feeling. We could, but we just don't want to. We're not addicts, Ryan. We're just selfish. That's what you're doing with Cyril. You play him hard for your needs. If he gets a little hurt, so be it. Because you know he can take it. You know he will still stand by your side afterwards. But for how long, Ryan? For how long, I ask you, until we've broken the ones around us enough times for them to finally learn their lesson?! I just found out, I don't want you to."  
"I can rely on Cyril."  
"Yes, but can he on you?"

******************************

Chris wasn't sure what was behind Toby's sudden turn back to religion, but he guessed it was his way to deal with the sudden loss of his family. After everything that had went down with Gary, Toby really hadn't needed this. Chris contemplated killing Harrison Beecher if he ever saw him again.

******************************

Toby knew it when he got out for count in the morning. A different energy in the air. Something was on. Something was going to happen. And it wasn't anything good.  
He walked to the cafeteria with a burning, edgy feeling under his nails. Then he heard the news. Murmured, spread in hushed voices with something like anticipation. Never uttered too close to him, nevertheless close enough.

"Hank Schillinger is coming to Oz."

******************************

That was it? The monster that had killed his child. A sickly pale boy. With a face that would have meant only one thing, hadn't he been Schillinger's son. A skinny, jittery, little druggy. With hunched shoulders and the eyes of a trapped animal. Toby would be able to twist his neck all by himself without even trying too hard. Hell, this boy could go down with an overdose and even Schillinger wouldn't even dream to blame Toby.   
A monster. A disgusting, little, slimy, worthless monster. A bug who'd escaped his heel narrowly a few times, too meaningless to even quash, until the opportunity was just too easy. Toby wouldn't go out of his way to not step on the cockroach this time.

******************************

"Heard he tried to off himself. Sent him to the looney bin for that. That's why he wasn't there when our man came for him." Pancamo told him, like he didn't know what all this meant to Toby, like he didn't know that Toby was ready to split at the seams.

******************************

"Sorry, Toby but you wanna kill my brother you'll have to kill me too."  
"That's okay, Andy." Toby said, regarding him without emotion.  
"That's my little brother, Toby." Andy's eyes were pleading with him.  
"That brother of yours killed my four-year-old son."  
"That was my father. It could just as well have been me."  
"And if it had been, it would be you dying now."

******************************

"Maybe we, in today's interaction session, we can talk about how this new arrival affects all of us." Sister Pete started.  
"How does it affect you, Sister?" Toby mocked. "What exactly are you doing in this discussion anyway? Meddling in stuff that is none of your concern, that you couldn't even begin to understand. Which of your children did he kill? Huh?" His voice got louder. He got up. "I think that's what I want to talk about today. Right, Vern, let's talk about how your little offspring murdered my FOUR-YEAR-OLD son!!!"  
"Tobias, please sit down again."  
"You go anywhere near my son, Beecher, I'll swear–"  
"What do you swear?! Huh?! Tell me!!" Toby lunged forward.  
Schillinger pushed his chair back, getting up.  
"Guard! Guard!" Sister Pete yelled.

******************************

"You have to let go, Tobias." Kareem said insistently. "You're on such a good way. Can't you see, this is your penance. Show your family that you are a different person. That you are not eaten up by violence. That this is not what controls your life. Show this boy forgiveness and maybe you will find forgiveness too."  
"My family would be happy about his death." Toby stated defiantly.  
"Will they, Tobias? Will they? Will they be happy about you murdering another human being. A human being that has been trialed and sentenced. Hank Schillinger will be here for the rest of his life. That is his penance. Be not as presumptuous as wanting to alter that."  
"Are you even listening to yourself, Kareem? Look around you! Look where we are! Has that way your preaching every worked for anyone?! You can't even control your own men."  
"Adebisi is my responsibility. A challenge that will help me grow as a person just as him. But right now, Tobias, you are my responsibility. And you came to me to help you change."

******************************

And Said was right of course. Violence had brought him nothing but grief so far. And even though the wish to draw blood was still strong in him, the more sensible part of his brain reminded him that this would backlash on him again. It didn't matter that Schillinger had been the one who'd started this, maybe Toby needed to be the one who ended it. Maybe that was the only option.  
Another voice though, said, why not? His family was gone anyway. Out of harms way. Now was the time to eradicate Schillinger's offspring and make the world a better place.

******************************

While Toby was still at war with his own conscience Hank Schillinger was moved to Psych Ward after having cut his wrists. Toby was filled by an acute sense of bereavement. He felt robbed. He cursed himself for not having acted while he'd had the chance.

Said didn't have the way. Religion. Forgiveness. Humility. There was nothing for him there. Revenge. Power. Victory. Those weren't satisfying enough either, but they were giving him more than weeks of repentance and prayer had given him.  
Said had his own demons to struggle with and it seemed they were no consolation for each other. Two strugglers in the quicksand.  
Every move made him sink in deeper, so now he'd just stop moving. He had to live in his reality, his father knew nothing. Nothing at all.

******************************

"Tell me, Mr. Schillinger, don't you want to be happy?" Reverend Cloutier asked. "Both of your sons are facing long prison sentences. But you have a granddaugther now. And you should see it as a sign of God that he sent both of your sons to be here with you. So you can be a family together. So you can know happiness.."   
"I only have one son left."  
"You know that is not true. If you will let me, I'd try to reconcile you with what's left of your family."

******************************

"Don't you want happiness, Mr. Beecher?" Cloutier asked. "Did you find it with Allah? Maybe you can find it with Jesus."  
"What the hell is it you want?" Toby asked wearily.  
"I want the two of you to join hands, to make an end to all the violence that has upturned your lives for too long."  
"You're preaching to the wrong man, Reverend. And, by the way, even if I did think that Jesus had anything to offer to me, unless he'd let my son rise from the grave like Lazarus, I have no respect for a priest who stole money from his own congregation. At least I don't pretend to be anything but what I am."

******************************

"Tobias," Sister Pete started.   
"No more interaction, Sister. It's not working." Toby cut her short.  
"It's not about that. Reverend Cloutier has come to me with an proposition that I would like you to try. Let him try to help you. Before anything happens that we will all regret."  
"That reverend sure won't let go." Toby huffed.

Toby stared at the walls of Psych Ward, which once upon a time must have been white, but now were something between the yellow of smoker's teeth and a sickly green. He didn't look through the window into the room in front of them, didn't look at the figure huddled inside.  
"Look at this child who killed your child." Cloutier urged.  
"That is no child." Toby replied.  
"But if you will look, you will see that he is just that."  
Toby looked at Hank Schillinger. Pale and pasty with dark circles under his eyes that looked almost like bruises. There were still bandages around his wrists. An anguished, haunted look in those eyes that seemed to dart from one corner of the room to the next all the time. He looked young. How old was he? Sixteen? Seventeen? And at that tender age he'd already managed to become a drug-addict, have his girldfriend prostitute herself and murder a four-year-old child. Now he was here, to be here for the rest of his life, however long that was going to be. Was that really a life worth living? Was that really a life worth taking?

******************************

"It's easy, Mr. O'Reily." Taylor said. "All I need is your testimony and you could be out of here in a few months. Between the two of us, your brother would make the deal."  
"I know." Cyril replied. And he did in that moment. Everything that had went wrong in the past months. Every shipment that had gone awry. May the blind man see.

******************************

"You did all this, right?" Cyril looked at his brother like he was seeing him for the first time. "Even that gun. Shit, you started it. You couldn't accept even your own brother standing over you? Hell, you'd probably fuck me over too if it served your purposes. Nah, stupid me, no need to guess. You already did."

*******************************

Shit, Cyril didn't want this for the rest of his life. He hadn't minded in the beginning, but now it had already been here three years and the meaning of 'life' had started to dawn on him.

"Everything fucked-up in my life happened because of you!" Cyril yelled at his brother.  
"Oh, come on, you're a grown-up! You made your decisions, don't blame this on me!! No one stopped you from saying no to me!!!"

Maybe it was time to take this chance. Maybe it was time for him to fuck Ryan over.

******************************

"Where's the Reverend?" Toby asked. All he got was half-concealed smirks. He made his way to their work detail.

"What the hell are you doing?!"  
Jaz Hoyd backed away from the wall he was just opening up again.  
"Fuck. Fuck." Jaz shook his initial shock off. "Shut the fuck up and help me!"  
Together they freed the Reverend from his confinement.  
"You won't say one word about this!" Jaz threatened Cloutier. He turned to Toby next. "This mustn't be followed back to me. I'd lose my rep. Beecher, you understand this. You know why I had to do this. Can I trust you to keep your mouth shut about this?"  
"I'll do you one better," Toby smiled. "I'll take Cloutier straight to McManus and tell him I found him."  
"I owe you one."  
"I'm not doing this so you owe me, I'm doing this because it's the right thing."  
Jaz looked surprised, but relieved. Then he grabbed the Reverend by the shoulder, before pushing him over to Toby. "You'll go into protective custody. But of course you won't say anything. Too scared. Ain't that right, Reverend?"

******************************

"Hello, Jaz." Toby smiled broadly.  
Jaz Hoyd eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want Beecher?"  
"You got me thinking. You really got me thinking."  
"About how we all are good at the core of our beings?" Jaz asked unimpressedly.  
"No. Not exactly. I thought about you as a person. How you're maybe someone I should get to know more closely."  
"You coming on to me?"  
"Ah, no, no, no," Toby wriggled his index finger. "Diversion strategy. I did some research on you. Or more specifically I had some friends of mine do some research on you. It also helped that I have access to Sister Pete's files."  
"So what, now you know about my fucked-up childhood?" Jaz shrugged, but he had started to sweat.  
"You know you're not the first narc trying his luck here, but I have to say you lasted the longest."  
Jaz blanched, getting that type of trapped-animal look that people get before they do something stupid.  
"Don't tell them." Jaz urged. "Come on, they'll kill me!"  
"You can still file out. Go straight to Glynn and you'll be out of here in 20 minutes."  
"I spent years building this case up, come on, you used to be a lawyer!"  
"Yeah, a lawyer. Not a DA. And what the hell made you think I'm suddenly one of the good guys?" Toby asked. "You're messing with my business here, Detective Gabriels. But it's your lucky day. Because I have an offer for you that you just can't refuse." Toby's smile went even wider nontheless threatening for it. "I give you Morales. My people go free, including Alvarez. Do with the Homeboys whatever you want. The Italians are no skin off my nose either. That should suffice. And you can even stay if you manage to keep your cover."  
"Alright, Beecher. It's a deal. Once I make the bust, your people stay clear." He extended his hand.  
"Ah, uh-uh, I don't think so. I want that in writing. Get your DA to sign it. Past and future crimes. You can call him right now, I happen to have a phone on me."

******************************

"Your friend Keller is living on borrowed time." Taylor told him. "You better say goodbye now."  
"I'm getting you out of there, Chris!" He turned to Taylor. "You shouldn't have done that."  
"Is that a threat?"  
"Only as so much that I am still a lawyer. I'm going to destroy you in court. I'm going to destroy your case. Every evidence you've ever found. Maybe I'm even going to destroy your career."  
"You didn't even get yourself of the hook."  
"But, I was guilty." Toby replied with a smile.  
"That you can say that with a straight face, should worry you more than me. Good luck, Mr. Beecher. May the better man win." He turned around once more. "And I'm really sorry about what happened to your son. But you have to see, everything that happened to you in your life, happened because of your bad decisions. Think about what decision you make this time."  
"I will. Trust me, I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole Hank part was pretty important to me. Not in so far that I think he didn't deserve to die, but I wanted to explore how the situation would change if Toby actually had to deal with him. And, yes, maybe I also wanted what might have been going on in Hank's head after that.
> 
>  
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	14. Drag me to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby might get parole.  
> Chris is on death row.  
> Peter Schibetta returns from Psych Ward with a vendetta and shoes that might still be too big to fill.
> 
> Cyril, he soon has bigger problems than questioning his life choices and his brother's involvement in them, soon he might not have a life at all.
> 
> And Ryan has to question what kind of brother he wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry for the wait.
> 
> As always I had to split the chapter in two parts.
> 
> I haven't really felt good about my work on this story for a while now, but this is the first chapter in a while that I actually feel turned out the way I wanted it to.

There was a real chance for him to get parole! He could be out of here in half a year. It was a thought both elating and terrifying. How very fast time had passed. How unbelievably much had happened in the past five years.

****

And then Taylor made good of his word and got the trial against Chris through. Deathrow. It was in the same fucking building and yet it might just as well have been Cedar Junction. 

"When will we see each other again?" Toby asked.  
"Here." Chris shrugged, then smiled. "Or in hell."  
"I guess we deserve it."  
"Probably. But I wouldn't worry. Knowing you, you'll send the devil packing."

****

"Peter Schibetta is back from Psych Ward." Ryan announced with as much excitement as if a fair had come to town. "What do you think? How crazy is he still?"  
"Really, Ryan," Toby rolled his eyes. "It's not funny."  
"Killjoy."

****

"Who's that?"  
"Adam Guenzel. Friend of the family. Knew him since he was little."  
"What's he in for?" Ryan asked.  
"Rape." Toby replied.  
Ryan said nothing for a moment. Then, "I heard his little friend has already been welcomed by the Prag Committee in Unit B. I guess Vern will be after your friend Guenzel's ass too. You should better look after him."  
"I guess so." Toby replied and for a moment even Ryan couldn't quite read him.

****

Toby made good on his word though. Ryan didn't know what he had expected. He gave Adam protection. Adam sat with the Irish, shared a pod with Toby and was all in all unaffected by the dangers that prison had to offer. He couldn't have had a better start here. Toby didn't exactly socialize with him, but he made sure he was safe.

****

"So," Adam regarded Toby as closely as it was possible inside the darkness of their pod. "Some others told me some story that you were gay..."  
"That's true."  
Adam backed away in disgust. "Fuck! What?! That's just sick! Do your parents know?"  
"Yeah."  
Toby regarded Adam's outraged confusion for a moment, then gave a snort and a dismissive smile. "Go to bed, Adam."  
Whatever lack of surivival instincts and general preparedness for prison Adam had, he was not completely oblivious, for he went to bed without another word.

****

"Beecher, I want to talk."  
"What do you want, Vern?" Toby asked, voice already betraying that his patience couldn't be sustained for much longer. There was no peace between them, no truce. Just because Toby had decided not to kill Schillinger's son that had dissolved nothing. Nothing was finished, nothing was forgotten. Nothing ever would be.  
"Just a word between you and me. I bet, Keller on deathrow sucks. I heard you're not allowed to see him?"  
"Deathrow's not Em City. Nothing McManus can do. And the warden isn't exactly a pal of mine." Toby humored him, let him continue this conversation, see where it flowed. If he let Schillinger play his games and followed along, he could tell what the other man was planning next. It was better in the long run, if hard to take for the time being.  
"If you'd like, I could take a letter from you to Keller."  
"Why would you do that?" Toby had a pretty good idea of why he would.  
"Just being friendly and everything. Time we let go of all that bad blood between the two of us."  
Toby didn't even want to think about the blood that was between them, but for the time being he remained silent, contained his emotions like he'd learned in here under much more dire circumstances.

****

"What's he doing here?" Redding spit out, when Peter entered the room.  
"For the same reason everyone else's here, old man." Peter sneered.  
"I didn't know the Italians were now led by Nino's daughter."  
"You want to repeat that with your own dick in your mouth?!"  
"We don't need this trouble." Toby stopped them. "If the Italians want him to represent them, it's their decision." He turned to Redding . "I'm gay and you don't like me. Now you don't like him too. Big deal."  
"Chucky's out for the unforseeable future." Cyril shrugged. "So, I'd say we make do with what we have."

Ryan watched the room where the other leaders met, that he wasn't even invited to anylonger.  
"What am I if not that?" Ryan asked.  
"Does it matter?" Miguel replied.  
"It does to me."  
"Look at me, I'm just a joke. The crazy druggie. The puppet for the Irish. Their bitch. The Latinos are leaderless again but they'd rather go to the dogs than have me again. It doesn't affect me. Not anymore. Because at the end of the day we're all here. And it doesn't matter if you have a little more rep. Look at Toby he's the most powerful man in here and he's a wreck. Look at Adebisi he's given up all his power and he seems more content and at peace than he's ever been."  
"You saying I have to let go."  
"Maybe."  
"I'm not sure I can."

****

Cyril hadn't acted on anything. Hadn't taken up Taylor on his offer. He'd only mulled those hateful, spiteful thoughts over and over in his head, trying to push them away, trying to forgive his brother like he always did. They didn't really talk about what Ryan had tried to do and maybe, Cyril told himself, it wasn't that important really, since he'd been unsuccessful. He tried to put himself in his brother's shoes, tried to see how hard it was for Ryan to lose what he'd lost when it had always been that fucking important to him to be in control. He knew Ryan's limitations when it came to the people closest to him, he had known them years ago and he'd been okay with them, he could be okay with them now.

And now that Ryan actually found his mother again, gotten in contact with her again, it hadn't brought them closer together either. Especially now, that she was working at Oz and Ryan was seeing her daily. Ryan was trying to include him. The lady had even said that he was a son to her just as well. But, honestly, Cyril had had a mom, he didn't know that woman, he didn't need her. And, honestly, he had no respect for a woman that had abandoned her own child. Had she taken Ryan with her back then, at least only Cyril himself would have grown up with Seamus. Ryan would have had a happier life, even though Cyril would maybe have never known him. No, he didn't want to be around to see how insanely and naively happy Ryan clung to her the second she'd walked back into his life. He didn't want to be around her, she who seemed to convey to him all the worst traits of Ryan. People who cut their losses, people who threw those closest to them under the bus. He didn't want to call that woman mother. But for Ryan's sake he would pretend happy family with them. So he made sure to be around as seldom as possible.

****

"I'm here for my work assignment." Cyril said, yawning. He was supposed to help out in the wood repair shop. He didn't even know they had something like that. But now seemingly a dude named Wallis had fallen sick and by whatever criteria it had been decided that Cyril was the best equipped to replace him for the time being. He wasn't sure what exactly qualified him, except maybe the crafting class he'd had in third grade.  
He hadn't expected to see what presented itself in front of him, though. It was no business of his. He could have just turned around and left. Maybe it was being around Toby for so long.

The hacks came in to find three badly roughed up Aryans, Schillinger among them, a very shaken Peter Schibetta and a Cyril O'Reily, with bloody knuckles, who tried to look innocent very hard.

As they were questioned by McManus, Cyril continued to act just really shocked by this completely unprovoked attack. Peter kept stoically silent, despite looking as white as a sheet. And the Aryans felt no need to implicate themselves in a crime.  
McManus knew something had happened, but since all involved parties refused to cooperate, the incident went into the files as another brawl with the Aryans. Caused by a completely accidential meeting of all the involved parties.  
Since Peter Schibetta had been the only one to get out of it unhurt, he was considered just to have been a witness. So instead of the others he wasn't even sent to the hole.

Cyril could imagine that Schibetta didn't want this to become public knowledge and he saw no need to destroy what he'd painstakingly reclaimed of his reputation.  
Benefited him too, as long no one knew what had happened, no one would start to wonder why he'd helped. Which left Cyril wondering, why he'd helped, Peter might place a threat to Ryan, after all. Maybe Toby's influence had slowly worried down on him. But then again, rape sucked and the Aryans were assholes. So fuck it, he'd done the right thing.

****

"Beecher, I have a proposal to make." Schillinger presented him, yet again with that fake jovial smile, that tried so desperately to cause trust and failed so spectacularly.  
"Propose ahead." Toby smiled. He'd been waiting. He knew what would come now. Hell, probably even Schillinger knew that he knew what he wanted. It was merely a ritual that they were having this conversation. It was really weird to have fought someone for so long that you knew them so well that you could predict them better than some of your own friends.  
"How would you like to take the mail to deathrow?"  
"The catch?"  
"Well, that Guenzel boy, how about he gets send to Unit B?"  
"You will have to give me a little more than that, Vern."  
Now Schillinger did look surprised.  
"How about you take mine and O'Reily's stuff through the mail room?" Toby proposed, patiently. Schillinger could take it or leave it. But he would take it. He'd seen how he'd looked at Adam.  
"And the boy is mine?"  
"And the boy is yours."  
It should maybe have shocked him how easy he made trade of another person's life, but Adam wasn't the boy he used to know. He was a rapist. And Toby wasn't a hypocrite. Adam wasn't a human being. Adam was a present. A present given to him by fate to make his life a little less unbearable than it was right now. And just like he'd learned when he was a little boy, he'd say thank you and put the present to good use.

When Toby left McManus' office, after giving him a very convincing account of how he'd tried and failed to turn around Adam, Ryan was waiting for him.  
"You never intended to protect him."  
"My mom will be heartbroken though."

****

Cyril overheard them talking. In retrospective it was probably dumb not to know that he was supposed to. That Jia Kenmin was willing to sacrifice his friend to get one of them. Probably to get Ryan. He didn't have any beef with the man. Even though, whoever had beef with Ryan also had it with him. No matter how mad he was at Ryan right now. No matter how strained their relationship had become. There was a certain reflex in Cyril when it came to Ryan. And Cyril did what he'd always. He watched out for his big brother. Shouldered the weight he couldn't. And while they led him away he still wondered why.

"Hey! He was going to rape Ryan's mother!!" he tried to explain to McManus.  
"We only have your and Ryan's word for that." McManus answered. 

****

"Cyril will get the death penalty if no witness comes up that backs up your story about Kenmin and his friend going to rape your mother, O'Reily." McManus told him. "He's shown too much violent behavior so far, and you both know it. I just wanted to let you know. You won't see him again, he'll be taken right from the hole to deathrow."  
"Fuck! FUCK! FUCK!!!"

****

"Hey Keller, long time no see."  
"If it isn't O'Reily the younger," Chris leaned against the bars of his cell, arms hanging through the bars, smiling. "Whatcha do?"  
"Something fucking stupid."

"How do you figure our chances are, for them getting us out?" Cyril asked.  
"Pretty damn fucking low," Chris joked.  
"That's what I thought." He had been wrong. It hadn't been Ryan's decisions that got him here. It had been his own. Letting someone take advantadge of you was a choice. A choice he had made. Probably for the last time.

****

"Beecher, we need to do something! Anything! I don't care!"  
"I'll get him the best lawyer possible, but that's all we can do right now, unless you find a witness. And things with Shupe didn't work out that well."  
"Thanks, Captain Obvious!"

****

Finally his switch into mail duty had been finalized, it had taken long enough. For the first time in weeks he was going to see Chris again. And all he could tell him was that outside things were breaking apart just as bad as here. Not that Cyril's arrival wouldn't have already told him that.

"Toby!" Complete disbelief and awe spread across Chris' face as he saw him.  
Toby walked over to the bars. "Miss me?" Their fingers closed around each other through the bars. They leaned in, foreheads touching, then lips.  
"He does!" Cyril yelled over from his cell. "Several times a day!"  
"Shut up, Cyril!" Both men yelled back jovially, grinning at each other like fools.  
Then Chris asked the question that Toby should have been asking.  
"How are you holding up?" One thumb gently traced along Toby's jaw.  
"How am I holding up?" Toby ducked his head. "I'm not the one I'm worried about. You are."  
"I'm good as can be. Nice accomodations. Excellent food. The finest of Em City as company. I'm not the one doing all the work here. All I have to do is sit on my ass and wait. And since you were so kind to send Cyril to keep me company I'm not even bored out of my mind anylonger."  
At the mention of Cyril's current change of residency, Toby let out an exhausted sigh, leaning against the bars, closer to Chris. "Yeah, that's exactly what we needed right now."  
"When the shit hits the fan, the shit hits the fan." Chris shrugged, one hand playing in Toby's hair.  
"Could you stop being this nonchalant?! It's your life too, being on the line here!"  
"Thanks for reminding me." Chris smiled, surly, but not really mad. How could he? Toby was here after all.  
"Sorry."  
"Forget it. How's everything going?"  
"Oh, you know. Peter Schibetta is trying to stir up trouble. Redding hates all of us. The Latinos are still running around like headless chickens."  
"And how are you?"  
"I'm–" Toby let out a snort. "I'm waiting for a day that maybe let's me catch a break for once. But today is pretty good so far."  
They smiled at each other.  
"Hey, how did you manage to get into mail-service, anyway? Did you suck Schillinger's dick?"  
The joke was tasteless, but it still made Toby smile weakly.  
"No, I sold Adam off to him. Does that make me a horrible person?"  
Chris looked at him closely.  
"Yeah...But I don't really care."

As Toby left, he stopped at Cyril's cell.  
"How are you holding up?"  
"I'm fine, man." Cyril played it down. "I mean, cozy as fuck in here."  
"We'll get you out."  
"I know. I know."  
Toby could see it in Cyril's eyes. Cyril knew they wouldn't be able to get him out. And he knew that Toby knew that there was no hope. The only one who still held onto hope was Ryan. Cyril was much stronger in this than Toby was. Toby couldn't just let go like that and accept. Even though he knew that for both men in those two cells there was little to no hope. But he'd be damned if he stopped as long as Chris still drew breath.

****

"I can't lose him," Ryan said. "I can't fucking lose him."  
"You won't." Miguel pacified him. As much as they'd argued in the past weeks, had butted their heads in. It had always been about this fucking matter of the leadership of the Irish or the leadership of the Latinos, when none of this really mattered in the long run. Miguel had accepted that by now. Had realised that in some situations it wasn't possible to turn back the clock. And to deny Ryan his support now, when he needed it so badly, seemed just cruel and unnecessary. What the hell would that prove, except that he didn't care enough about him? But he did care enough about him. They both did. And the fact that lately they'd both been constantly angry, constantly clashing with each other, didn't change that.  
"Who am I without him?" Ryan asked. "Who am I?" the second question was only whispered anylonger.  
"Toby will find a way. He always does. And... if worse comes to worst, you will have to let go."  
"I don't think I can."  
Ryan started crying. Miguel wrapped his arms around him.  
"You'll still have me." Miguel murmured against Ryan's hair.  
"Yeah?" the voice sounded small, for once unsure.  
"Always."

****

The door opened. It was past lunch time and not yet dinner time.  
"Agent Taylor!" Chris greeted jovially. "To what do I owe the honor of this surprise visit?"  
"I'm not here for you." Taylor sneered. "I'm all about done with you."  
Chris chuckled. "Yeah, well, but maybe I'm not done with you."  
Taylor snorted. "Threats are about all you'll ever be able to use against anyone again. And that too for not too much longer. The governor likes to not waste time to carry out his death sentences these days."  
"I'm still appealing."  
"Your boyfriend can appeal all he wants. No jury on this earth is going to dismiss that evidence." He threw Chris one more look of disgust. "I've wasted enough time with you, already."  
He walked over to Cyril's cell. Lopresti unlocked for him and he went inside. From his cell Chris couldn't anylonger hear what they were talking about.

"Well, Mr. O'Reily," Taylor greeted Cyril. "I see your circumstances have deteriorated considerably since the last time we spoke. We both know I'd rather see your brother sit in this cell than you. We both know he'd deserve it more."  
"There's no way you'd even have the power to change my sentence."  
"Oh, you'd be surprised about the kind of power I have. I'm offering you exactly that on paper. A life sentence, which you already have, you go back to Em City and everyone's happy. All I'm asking is a simple statement. You don't even have to do it in court. You don't have to face your brother, doing it. We can record it."  
Cyril smiled bitterly. "Go to hell."  
"Ah, Mr. O'Reily, by the looks of it, that's exactly where you are going. Think about my offer. If you change your mind, tell one of the COs to call me. Anytime." He got up. "I'm looking forward to hear from you."

****

Adam was wearing make-up, when Toby saw him next. He looked like he'd been crying. It reminded Toby of what he'd looked like, a lifetime ago. When he'd had no means of defense. Helpless. Humiliated. Afraid. Reminded him of how fucking awful he'd felt. Reminded him of the mockery he'd been exposed to. The complete lack of compassion by the other inmates. The complete ignorance by the hacks. The feeling of being lost, exposed, ruined.  
Adam approached Toby hesitantly.  
"Toby...Please. Please help me."  
Toby regarded him for a moment.  
"I guess, now you know what the girl you and your pal raped and nearly killed, felt like."  
Yes, he should have felt compassion for Adam. Should have felt kinship. Should have regretted his actions terribly, feeling ashamed of how he could have sunken so low. But all he felt was satisfaction. Satisfaction to see Adam exactly where he belonged. It felt like justice. It felt like he was only finishing what the justice system had started. That this was the true sentence Adam had been given.

****

Cyril had spent the morning relentlessly playing throw-catch with a tennis ball against the wall of his cell. Now his wrist was hurting like he'd been wanking all morning, which he was pretty sure was what Chris had been doing. When the door opened for lunch it wasn't the regular guy who brought it. It was as a matter of fact Peter Schibetta. He brought the tray commentless to Chris. When he had handed the other one to Cyril though, he stayed.  
"Hi. We should talk."  
"About what?" Cyril asked, genuinely puzzled.

****

Ryan was in the gym when he was unexpectedly approached by none other than Peter Schibetta. It probably wasn't an attack, he didn't have the entire posse of the Italians with him. He just walked up to him, stopped beside him and said one sentence, face never betraying the weight of the words.  
"I've heard from a reliable source, that it was you who fed my father ground glass, having him slowly bleed to death from the insides."  
"What reliable source is that supposed to be?" Ryan asked, keeping his face bored.  
"Oh, don't get all defensive, O'Reily. Just want us all to be on the same page." Schibetta winked at him and then he was off to his own people again.  
Fuck. That's what he needed. Chucky needed to come back from sick leave and soon. He was sure the other man wouldn't be as quick to throw their business partnership away over revenge for a long-dead man.

****

"We have a witness." McManus told Glynn.  
"Really? That guy whose arm they took off? He's hardly a credible witness."  
"No, someone of whose credibility I have no doubts, because I can't think of any link with the O'Reily's."  
McManus shook his head as if still not believing what he was going to say, "Peter Schibetta testified."  
Glynn looked like he'd just gotten heartburn.  
"Peter Schibetta?!"

****

Ryan grabbed Peter out on the floor, on his way back from therapy, slamming him into the next wall.  
"What's your game?! Huh?!"  
"No game." Peter retorted, pushing Ryan off.  
"Right," Ryan huffed out a bout of bitter laughter. "You're trying to fuck me over. And I am going to find out how."  
"Not everything is about you, O'Reily."

****

"Okay, then." Cyril picked up the box with his stuff. "I'll see you around, Chris."  
"You sure will. Say hi to my sweetheart."  
"I'll give him a real big kiss for you."  
"How about you give him a real nice blowjob for me?"  
"Yeah, I'll definitely miss you."

Schibetta had really gone through with it. Cyril was free to go. Well, free to go back to Em City. But anything was better than deathrow. Ryan had been so sure Schibetta would retract last minute, or testify something completely different in court. But he'd sat there and told them the truth. The truth he had never actually witnessed. Ryan still had to find out who'd told him the exact circumstances.

****

"Cyril. I have one question." Ryan said carefully. "Just tell me the truth. I know it was a shitty situation, I'm not mad. I'm just glad you're alive. I know we had a tough time recently."  
"What the fuck are you talking about?"  
"Did you tell Schibetta that me and Adebisi killed his father? Is that why he testified for you?"  
Cyril froze in place, just gaping at Ryan.  
"I'm not you, Ryan. I don't gang up on people who trust me."  
"Wh–Why the hell else would he do it?! Huh?!"  
Cyril only gave him the finger before walking out on him. "Go fuck yourself."

****

Cyril switched his kitched shift after that. Instead of preparation and distribution he switched to clean-up. He honestly didn't want to see his brother's face anylonger. It was really adding insult to injury to accuse him of betraying Ryan after he'd gone to fucking deathrow for him.  
Since Ryan and him had been the only Irish besides the Italians on kitchen duty that meant he had literally no one to talk to, but that was fine with Cyril. Just being left alone suited him fine these days. He had enough on his mind.

They'd pretty much finished and most of the other Wiseguys had already left. Only Peter Schibetta had trailed behind and was still aimlessly tinkering with some pans and pots.  
"Hey." Cyril said.  
"Hey."  
"Thanks."  
"We're even."  
They continued to work in silence. Peter didn't seem to be exactly happy to work in the kitchen. It wasn't like Cyril couldn't guess why.

****

It was surprisingly easy to talk to each other. Maybe it shouldn't have been such a surprise after the things they'd done for each other, the things they knew about each other.  
"So, what're you doing these days?" Cyril asked, legs dangling down from the kitchen counter.  
"Trying to get back the lead of the Italians."  
"How's that working out for you?"  
"So, so." Peter shrugged. "How's things with your brother going?"  
"So, so."

****

Things with Ryan had slowly gone back to normal again. Of course they had, it wasn't like Cyril had ever been able to really be angry at his brother for a long time. Outwardly everything was just like it used to. Ryan had apologized, again and again. Which was out of character enough. And Cyril could tell, he could really tell how relieved Ryan was that he was back. And no one was denying that Ryan loved him. It was just the thoughts that had accumulated during his stint on deathrow. He couldn't quite let go of them.  
But outwardly the only change was that he hadn't switched his shift back. And maybe that was the biggest indicator that things weren't fine, because otherwise he would have done his damnedest to spent as much time with Ryan as possible.

"Does it bother you?" Peter asked as they were throwing away leftovers. Well, Peter was throwing them away, Cyril was eating what was still in the pot.  
"What?"  
"That your brother still treats you like his goon, even though you lead the Irish now?"  
"Does it bother you that everyone calls you prag?" Cyril retorted defensively.  
"Fuck you very much." Peter drawled. "But I guess that's enough of an answer. And sure, who wouldn't be bothered?"  
"Oh, so here it comes." Cyril shakes his head, as if having an epiphany.  
"Here comes what?"  
"Ryan told me you were going to pull something on him. Trying to win me over to the dark side, are you?"  
"This is not about Ryan. This is about me having not very many people in my corner."  
"I'm not in your corner."  
"Oh, I think you are."

****

Peter just came back from therapy when he passed Schillinger and some of his goons on the floor.  
"Hey, Peter, we still have some business to conduct. Don't you forget. I still want to hear how I measure up compared to Adebisi." Schillinger winked at him. "I'm looking forward to it."  
Peter felt himself shrinking against the wall. Schillinger was long past him when he still stood there, glued to the wall.  
"Fuck!" He slammed his palm against his forehead, "Fuck! Fuck!"

****

"Hey, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but how is it for you to be back in a Unit with Adebisi again, now?" Cyril asked.  
"I already was with him in Psych Ward. If you ask me he's as crazy now as he was then. And honestly, these days Adebisi is my last worry."  
"Why, what happened?"  
Peter shrugged. "Nothing really."  
Cyril furrowed his brows. "Hey, you can tell me. That's what our fucking talking therapy here is about, isn't it?" Cyril joked. "We both gush on about our problems to the sweet smell of stale food. Should I maybe put glasses on, so I look more like Sister Pete?"  
"Fuck you." Peter jabbed him with his elbow, but he was smiling.  
"Yeah, tell me anyway."  
"I... God this is stupid... I met Schillinger in the hall–"  
"What the fuck did that bastard do?!" Cyril had jumped down from the counter he'd been sitting on.  
Peter seemed surprised by his reaction too. "He didn't do anything. That's the problem. Or no, that's not the problem. The problem was my reaction to him doing nothing." Peter stopped here again.  
"Yeah, what?" Cyril prompted. "Come on, I'm not judging. Have you seen the people I hang with?"  
"I was scared." Peter whispered. Then louder, "I was scared shitless. Fuck!"  
"Schillinger is a bad son of a bitch. And you also got PTSD or some shit like that. I'm pretty sure Toby was scared of him too once upon a time."  
"I'm not Tobias Beecher!" Peter yelled both angry and desperate. Compared to an ex-prag. But he really wasn't like him, was he? Because Tobias Beecher was strong.

****

"Make no mistake, Petey." Pancamo said. "I'm back. It's time for you to step down. You did a good job while I was gone. You know your place."  
Yeah, Peter knew his place alright. Bent over for one of these fuckers in here.  
'Because you did such a good job?' was what Peter wanted to say. Instead he said "Sure, Chucky."  
Yeah, the Italians had been losing jizz ever since his dad had died. They used to run this fucking prison. And Peter had enough of being at the end of the food-chain. Said said there was no way to get back from this. But they would all learn different. Peter was done with being victimized.

****

"You ever had someone you loved as much as another being can love someone?" Cyril asked that day, as they were mopping tomato sauce off the kitchen tiles. How anyone had been able to spill that much of it was anyone's guess. "And you did literally anything for them, anything at all. And you didn't mind, because you loved them so much. Because you loved them more than you love yourself. But they don't feel the same. They just use you. And you've been through so much together. And you start to wonder, did they ever love you at all, or were you just convenient."  
"O'Reily loves no one but himself." Peter replied without hesitation.

****

'I guess I'll have to let you be the judge of that.' Peter jerked out of the half-hazard sleep he'd been in. Those words still haunted him. That and what would have happened if Cyril O'Reily hadn't shown up when he did, if he'd just walked away again.  
Shame. Shame flooded every inch of Peter's body. He sank down in the furthest corner of his cell, knees drawn to his chest and gave way to the sobs he wasn't able to repress fully. He was a joke. Bringing shame onto his father's name. If he couldn't even think about this without breaking down in tears, what hope did he have of ever regaining his position? None. He was a joke and he would die a joke in here. Even though, maybe not. Seemingly he wasn't threat enough to kill. No people fucked him and then let him be. He was a bitch. More bitch than Tobias Beecher had ever been. He'd been born a bitch.

****

"Hey, do you think Cyril and me are okay?" Ryan asked.  
"Why wouldn't you be?" Toby replied surprised.  
"I don't know, I mean we talk. We still talk and all. But I barely see him anylonger with the different shift and stuff. And it's like he's dragging it out or something, like he drags it out so he has time away from me."  
Toby snorted. "Cyril loves you. I think there is literally nothing you could do that would stop him from loving you."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah."

****

"FUCK!" Peter cursed, putting down the can he'd nearly hit Cyril over the head with. "Don't move up on me like that!"  
"Woah, sorry man." Cyril put up his hands apologetically. He'd just entered the cafeteria for his shift, when he'd seen Peter working in the food storage compartment. When he'd tipped him on the shoulder to greet him, he'd nearly gotten knocked out. "Shit, man, you're jumpy."  
Peter only looked at him like he was a complete idiot.  
"Aw, fuck, that was here?" Cyril scratched his head, looking sheepish.  
"Yeah," Peter rolled his eyes. "Every single fuck in this whole damn prison knows that it was here. And they are only too fucking happy to remind me of it."  
"Yeah, well, sorry, I don't really care what everyone's talking."  
Peter smiled. "Yeah, I noticed."  
They both laughed. Then Cyril's smile faded and he looked at him through narrowed eyes. Peter couldn't say he liked the scrutiny.  
"Are you okay?" Cyril asked then.  
"You've been asking me that a lot, lately." And, no, he wasn't okay. He was as a matter-of-fact so far away from okay, that he wondered if maybe a more realistic goal than getting back the lead of the Italians would be getting through the fucking day. But checking back into Psych Ward wasn't a solution either.  
"Yeah, well, you've been looking like shit a lot, lately. Has Schillinger been bothering you again?"  
Peter's face scrunched up in disgust. "He's been warning me not to talk to Sister Pete about him harrassing me. Came walking right into therapy while Sister Pete was gone."

****

Cyril passed Schillinger on the hallway. He smiled at him.  
"Hey, old man. Your other son try to kill himself lately? The baby-killer, I mean. Not the one who's hanging with us."  
Schillinger grit his teeth, but smiled anyway. "What the fuck do you want, O'Reily?"  
The next instant, Cyril had already moved in on him and put a shank into his side.  
"You stay the fuck away from Peter Schibetta." he hissed into Schillinger's ear before he let him drop to the floor.

****

"What the fuck was that about, little brother?!" Ryan exclaimed flabbergasted.  
"He talked shit at me," Cyril shrugged. "About you and Toby. Should I just let him get away with that. Fucker lived, so what?" If there was one thing his brother knew about him, it was that he had a temper.  
"So you fucking shank him in the hallway?! What the fuck, Cyril? What the fuck?! Things were just about starting to settle again with him and Toby. Now we'll have to be extra careful."

****

The thing was, Toby had officially switched to mailservice, so, since no one ever officially stated that it had been Cyril, there was of course no cause to switch Toby away from there, no matter that the Aryans probably would have liked nothing more. So despite everything, Toby still got to see Chris. Even though, going to the mail room all by himself, now that the truce was officially over never felt like a really good idea.

"Move along, Robson." Toby ordered, level but imperative.  
"Or what?"  
Toby raised his head, pinning the taller man with his gaze. "Why don't you find out, James?" There was one shank taped to his underarm, another in his bootleg. Not that it would help him any against so many, if his authority should be challenged. But that was the point, keeping a presence where no one would challenge his authority.  
Robson moved out of his way.

"Is anyone giving you trouble?" Toby asked Chris as he visited him that day.  
"Who's supposed to give me trouble? No one here but me." Chris shrugged.  
"I'm afraid, they could try something. I don't know. Try to get to me through you."  
"I can hold my own, babe. The question is, did anyone try anything with you?"  
Toby could tell from the tense set of Chris' shoulders that he'd just loved to get out here and get his hands on anyone who could mean a threat to Toby. It made Toby smile. No matter how aggressively he reacted to any tries of Chris to patronize him or insinuate he needed protection, it actually felt nice to be protected, to know that there was someone who would protect him no matter the costs.  
"I can handle those bitches, don't you worry."  
"Yeah, I still worry. Hate it to fucking be in here." Chris growled, hands clenching around the bars.  
"Well, I'll get you out." Toby said, one hand cupping his face while the other reached for Chris' pants.

"Fucking hell, Cyril. Was that really necessary?" Toby asked, returning from his work assignment.  
"I'm sorry, Toby."  
"What's done is done. Just try to keep it cool the next time."  
Cyril felt something in the way Toby regarded him, like he knew there was more to this story.

****

He was looking out for him. That's what he was doing. This whole prison-gay thing was stupid. Cyril had always thought so. It wasn't that he thought he was going to hell, or anything. It was just that he didn't really believe in suddenly changing your sexual orientation. That was before he'd gotten nearly life, though. Peter was probably the wrongest choice possible to try it out. But then again, Toby... And Ryan and Miguel, for that matter. Would have been hard to find two guys more predjudiced about gays. But, no, that's not what this was. This was a friend looking out for another friend. And really, Ryan would have a field day if he knew who he'd become friends with.

****

"How did that with you and my brother start?" Cyril tried to look non-commitally.  
"You've been here for over three years and now you ask?" Miguel seemed to be more shocked by this fact than the question itself.  
"Yeah, well, lot's of other stuff going on. I'm just curious, how you got into Mr. 'No dicks here, please' pants."  
Miguel smiled fondly at that. "Yeah, well, I guess we just grew on each other." He chuckled at whatever memory had just come to his mind.  
"Yeah, but, that's like a big step to take."  
"It sure seemed so back then. And we all know the shit-ton of repercussions it had for both of us. But thinking back, I'd say it would have been a shame if we hadn't done it."

****

They'd be staring at that piece of intel for ten minutes now. It was clear how it would be done. It was clear what it would cause. What wasn't clear was whether to use it at all. It was the one piece he'd been looking for that had evaded him so far. That one stroke of luck that he'd always had all through his live, to get the better of other people. It had never been that he'd been better than everyone else, he just knew better how to use what he had. How to use the mistakes others made.  
That one of their outside contacts, one of Cyril's closest friends had been conspiring with the Italians. That was a stroke of luck. The man had taken money from the Italians for intel he'd been giving them and he'd actually ferried the money away to an old account that still ran under Cyril's name.  
Miguel had actually come up with that piece of information for him, while he didn't have many friends on the inside anylonger, he still had quite a few on the outside.  
It was easy. In their world there wasn't such a thing as hard evidence. There was guilty by association. Condemned by probably cause. The fact that Cyril seemed to hang more with the Italians than with his own crew these days would only help to cement that fact.  
There was no real danger to Cyril. Ryan and Toby would be able to protect him. They would make sure that there was evidence proving Cyril was innocent, too. But by then it would be too late to salvage anything from Cyril's reputation. It was what he'd been waiting for. What damage would it really cause for Cyril? He'd been fine being in the background for years. He didn't really care for reputation. He was a fighter, not a thinker. And he was fine with it. It wouldn't really matter to him.  
"You do this you'll be back in the lead of the Irish." Miguel said, not judging just completely matter-of-factly.  
"I can't," Ryan said with realisation. "I can't do this. If I do this, I'll destroy mine and Cyril's relationship forever, everything that's left of it."  
Miguel smiled. "Good choice."

****

He tried to kiss Peter. In very quickly coming retrospective it had probably been a really bad idea. And he should have thought a little longer about it. But then again, Cyril had always been one to act out of emotion instead of precise planning. Peter nearly hit him over the head with a can. Again. Cyril managed to grab his wrist last second, twisting it to make him drop it. Peter tried to wiggle out of his grip like an eel, face twisted, teeth bared.  
"Woah, stop it. Stop, Peter! I'm not trying to– I'm not trying to hurt you!"  
Why did this always happen to him? All Peter heard in his mind was, if you don't hold still, this is really going to hurt. The words Schillinger had said to him, moments before Cyril had walked in on them. He went still, the fight leaving his body. No chance. He had no chance here. When had he ever?  
"Hey! Breathe, dude. Everything's cool."  
Cyril pushed Peter, who looked like he was going to faint, onto a stool. Peter pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around them.  
After approximately three minutes Peter asked, "What were you trying to do then?"  
There was no other chance but honesty. Peter wouldn't buy anything less.  
"I was trying to kiss you." Bad move. Bad move. He saw once again fear soar up in Peter's eyes. "I'm– It was a dumb idea."  
"What is this? You offering me protection?" Peter asked, horrified but dead serious.  
"No." Cyril had a hard time trying to realise what Peter was implying. "Hell no! I'm not trying to make you my prag! I– I like you."  
The words hit Peter like a punch in the face. The meaning of them. He didn't want to think about it. Cyril was the only friend he had left in this whole fucking prison. Probably the only friend he'd ever had here. Not like his so called brothers, 'You were Adebisi's bitch, but your family, we'll look after you'. Why did everything have to go so wrong for him all the time? But he had to think strategically. And one thing was undeniable, one opportunity was almost self-evident. If this really was the truth, Peter had a good chance to tie Cyril to him. He needed his help to be able to take his life back. And maybe he'd even be able to finally turn him against his brother. He'd just have to swallow down his pride. If he still had any left. But he couldn't just change his tune all of a sudden. And more importantly, it was one thing to convince his mind that this was necessary, it was a whole lot other to convince his body.  
"You like me, huh?"  
"Yeah, sorry." Cyril felt beyond awkward. Despite feeling conflicted enough about being gay, now he also felt like a rapist.

****

"Hey, err, sorry about the other day, again, okay?" Cyril started awkwardly. "Please, just forget it. I would never do anything you don't want. Not implying that you would want anything–"  
Peter forced himself to smile. "It's okay. I get it."  
"You do? Fuck, that's a relief." Cyril let out a breath. "I would have hated myself if you had hated me now."  
"No, it's okay. I trust you." The smile that he still needed to concentrate to uphold felt wrong, when usually Cyril had been the only one he'd actually had reason to smile around anylonger. But now, all he felt again was fear and shame.

****

Lopresti walked over to Chris cell as Toby came with the mail. That was unusual. He opened the cell and locked it back behind Toby.  
"You got 30 minutes." he said, glaring at both of them. Then he walked out of the room, making a disgusted noise.  
"Wow," Chris looked at Toby. "How much did that cost you?"  
Toby smiled wrily. "A lot. But it's not like I don't have the money." He leaned against the bars, beckoning Chris towards him. "Come on, let's make this count."  
Instead of being all over him immediately, Chris prowled towards him, grabbing the bars on either side of Toby's face. "What do you want, Toby?" he asked, voice challenging, seductive, dangerous.  
"Fuck me." Toby knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to fuck hard, wanted to submit to him like he submitted to no one else anylonger. Chris knew that. Understood. Could exactly see what he wanted, needed.  
"I can do that, baby." The back of his hand traced down Toby's face, more predatory than caressing.

****

Peter took a deep breath, steeling himself. He walked up to Cyril.  
"You know, I've been thinking about what you said. And... I think I feel something for you too..." he stopped there, not only for dramatic pause, but because he couldn't continue for a moment. "I don't know," The desperation wasn't an act. "Can– can we just take it slow?" Judging from the intense joy and surprise that bloomed on Cyril's face, he didn't find anything amiss about Peter's confession.  
"Really? You do? Yes. Yes! We will take this totally slow. I would never. Never. Do anything that would hurt you."  
Okay. Peter calmed himself again. Okay. At least he could probably count on that he wouldn't bend him over right here over the counter.  
"Can I kiss you?" Cyril asked.  
What? "Y–yes." Peter replied bewildered.  
And Cyril did. Short at first, like he wasn't really sure what he was doing either, despite this being the part where there really shouldn't have been a difference to kissing a woman. Then again, longer, more thoroughly, despite never breaching Peter's lips. Then he let go of him again and interwined their fingers and grinned at him like a fool.

****

Okay, well, after the kiss the question of his sexual orientation was probably solved for now, Cyril concluded. That was definitely not just friendship he felt for Peter. And now that this awkward state of not knowing was solved, he actually didn't feel all that bad about it. He actually wondered why he'd been so bothered with it to begin with. Or maybe he was just too fucking happy right now to give a toss about what had worried him a few days ago. He wanted to tell Ryan. But he really couldn't, this was nothing that was for anyone's knowledge. Things were hard enough for Peter without anyone else knowing. He owed him that. Even if it was his own brother. Not to mention that Ryan would flip if he told him that. He'd probably take it less hard if he told him he'd started screwing Schillinger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on two of my favorite characters from Oz who also happen to be the most underappreciated of them all. Cyril O'Reily and Peter Schibetta. I always loved those two. Especially since so little about them was shown and there was so much backstory behind them, just waiting to happen.
> 
> The whole them getting together part evolved of it's own, without me even intending it. The scene with Cyril saving Peter just happened out of nowhere and everything else fell into place after that.
> 
> I still had a hard time of working it so it felt like a realistic progression to me, despite knowing where I wanted it to go.


	15. You're just daddy's little girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bitch is a bitch is a bitch.
> 
> Maybe not an universal truth, but here it might as well be. Or, maybe, maybe Peter can do what Beecher did. But then again, how could he? Because right now, isn't that exactly what he is? Someone's bitch. And how long is he really going to play this game with Cyril? And will it really bring him the benefit he's looking for?
> 
> 2/4 of Peter's and Cyril's story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pathetically grateful thanks to origuru who basically started my writing process again with really inspirational comments, without which this chapter and the following wouldn't be what they are now.
> 
> Also thanks to BestApplePie. I made it after all (Only because I split the actual chapter into three parts though^^). Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy it.

Now that fortune came, but it's gone and it passed you by  
You plucked your feathers, now you wonder why  
You can't lift yourself and fly

They tell you disregard the doubts that creeps across your mind  
They tell you there is simply nothing more for you to find  
They tell you time to wake up and get back into the line

(Slave - Zack Hemsey)

****

Yeah, Peter decided, he could deal with this. He could deal with this, like this. Soft touches. Hesitant kisses. And most of all respectful. Cyril was watching his boundaries, would back away at the hint of discomfort. What exactly Cyril was getting out of this Peter couldn't fathom. There were more rewarding things than courting a blushing virgin. Even though Peter was certainly not a virgin. And the thing was, he would have went along with anything Cyril could have demanded, because he needed Cyril. Why wasn't Cyril demanding anything more? The point of relationships like this in prison was having someone to fuck. And there was none of that going on right now, that was for sure. Did Cyril actually mean that about having feelings for him? But Cyril wasn't a faggot like Beecher or Keller.  
Right now Cyril was running his hands down Peter's sides while he kissed his neck. It was a nice touch, comforting touch, if he allowed himself to think that much. Gentling. Caressing. Not going below the waistline and both of them still fully clothed.  
Cyril broke away from him after a while, giving him a lopsided grin. "Sorry, gotta go and jerk off."  
He went past some of the shelves and vanished out of sight. He was quiet but Peter could still hear him. Shallow, subdued breaths, quickening, a low bit-back moan here and there. And Peter had followed on quiet feet, leaning against one of the shelves, his head turned, catching a look of Cyril sitting on the ground, head leaned back against the shelve behind him, eyes closed, knees tucked up and splayed open, one hand moving in his opened pants, stomach muscles tense under the white undershirt, as his hips would lift off the floor from time to time. And Peter watched him, knowing that he was thinking about him, not wanting to think about what he was doing to him in his imagination. He didn't wait until Cyril was finished but left soundlessly like he'd come.

****

"I'd do anything to get my lead back. All this belonged to my father once. I've shamed and disappointed him already in every way possible. Said says I can't come back from this. But I won't go down like this." Peter laughed, painfully. "I won't be remembered like this." His voice turned to a whisper. "I won't be remembered, bent over a table by Adebisi."  
"What the fuck does Said know?" Cyril said. "Sure you can. I mean, look at Toby." 

****

They could talk again, like they used to, without Peter having to contain the inner urge to scramble for the next door as soon as Cyril got close. How curious. Peter'd have thought it would be harder. But without his own judgement his body at least seemed to have decided that Cyril wasn't a threat. His mind was still spinning a mile a minute, though. Because it knew this was a state of transit. It couldn't hold. Because patience was a quality that would have come handy to many prisoners, but that next to none possessed. And even then there was one thing universal to patience. It ran out.

****

Peter wasn't weak. That's what most people didn't see. Being scared didn't make you weak. Their situation here was scary. They all were scared. Every single one of them. And those that were like Keller or Adebisi, those were barely human anylonger anyway. No matter that Cyril quite liked Keller he was still aware of that. Sociapaths, both of them. And that was the truth of it.  
You didn't show it, to survive. But everyone was feeling it. Every day, every minute. Inmates and hacks alike. Because for everyone in here it could be the last day, every day. And some people just weren't build for it. But then again, Peter had probably had even less choice than Cyril in his pursuit of career. Cyril could always have become a construction worker or an unemployed drunkard like his dad. Peter, well, Peter probably didn't even have that choice.  
Peter had honor. Maybe part of his upbringing, who knew. Even though there'd been enough Wiseguys who'd backstabbed someone at one point. Peter didn't. Peter had gotten him off deathrow. It hadn't been his smart brother's plan, or come from Toby's brilliant ex-lawyer brain. No, Peter had come up with it on his own and executed it on his own. Perjury on a homicide case. He'd done it because Cyril had saved him. Peter'd been the one who'd saved Cyril from certain death, when Cyril himself had already given up, when all his friends had been still trying but deep down had given up too. Peter was smart and Peter was loyal. Peter didn't leave bills unpayed. Because of that Cyril had no doubt that Peter would eventually get the lead of the Italians back.

****

Toby remembered that once upon a time he'd offered Peter Schibetta to back up his leadership if he returned. And now, now he just couldn't be bothered. Where was all the righteousness and the urge to make something better?

****

"Hey, Maria. How are you?"  
"Hey, Pete." Peter heard his sister's warm voice at the other side of the phone. "I'm fine. How are you?" The question was insistent, not looking for any commonplaces.  
Still that's what she got. "I'm good. Have you talked to uncle Gene?"  
"Pete, you know how it is." Apologetic. Placating.  
"Yes. I do know." No backup on that side. Peter was part of the family, but at the same time he wasn't part of the family.  
"Let me come visit you."  
"No, Maria, I don't want you here."  
"Goddamit, Peter!" His sister used to curse all the time. Used to piss their father off to no end. That's not something women should do, he'd say. He missed that. And, wow, 'Peter', she only called him that when she was really pissed at him. "We're you're family. Mom and dad are dead, but you still got us. Me, Daniella, Lucia and Rosalie. We're still here. We always will be here. You can't just push us away."  
"You know why I can't have you here right now."  
"Yes, I know. I know that. Pete." She paused. "I want you to be happy. Aw, shit, you know what, I want you to be alive foremost. I don't care about what daddy wanted for you. I don't care that you got raped– Now, don't hang up, Peter! Don't you dare hang up on me! You listen to me, you dumb fuck. It doesn't matter to me." she enounciated clearly. "I want to kill the guy who did it, sure. And if Charles ever gets out of here, I'll cut his balls off. But, all this bullshit you got going in there, and out here too. I don't care. It doesn't make you less of a man. And you know it fucking killed me, what it did to you. I didn't hear from you for a whole year, Peter! I had to call the prison to check in that you were still alive. If I was Rosalie I would have divorced you for that. But I'm your big sister, and I don't care. I will never not love you. You're my blood. You're my baby brother. And, dad, dad fucked your life over good. And he's in the ground. And I don't want you fucking your life over any further, because you want to prove something. Charles will kill you if you go up against him. He won't let you fuck with him on this. Not for dad's memory, not for me."  
"I can handle myself, Maria."  
The hollow laugh at the end of the line was answer enough.  
"Don't die in there, Peter. For the love of God, don't die in there." A pause. "I'll call you if I have news."  
"Thank you. I love you."  
"I love you too."

"Who was that?" Cyril asked, later.  
"My sister."  
"You have a sister?"  
Peter snorted. "Three of them. Two older, one younger. Maria's the oldest, she was eight when I was born. Daniella is only roughly a year older than me. And Lucia is 25 now."  
"Wow, three sisters. That sounds... exhausting."  
"Nah, we always got along fine. Maria used to date Chucky, you know."  
"No way! And Nino let him?!"  
"Maria's not one who let's anyone tell her anything. Neither's Lucia. Only me and Daniella, we always did what our father told us to do. With me going into the family business and Daniella marrying some jerk, dad had picked out for her. She got the better deal. She's divorced now."

****

"No offense, but it sounds like Nino was a shit father."  
"Fuck you."  
"Hey, I should know, I got a shit father too. Only mine's still alive."

And Nino had been a shit father, Peter thought, remembering how he hadn't been allowed to cry over his mother. Nino'd never asked what Peter wanted. And now the time for choice was over. Now Peter had to play the cards he'd been dealed. And, damn, were those some shitty cards.

****

For just a second Peter let himself imagine what it would have been like coming in here without his name, without the protection of his family. He wouldn't have lasted a day. Not with his face. But then again, without his family he wouldn't have ended up here at all. Probably.  
And honestly, everything that had gone wrong in here had been his own fault. Because he'd made brash decisions. Because he'd tried to prove something. And it had gotten worse and worse with each attempt. How would it end up this time? Wasn't he repeating the same thing as before? He was thinking he was doing it differently this time, that he would succeed this time. But what exactly was he doing differently than before? Well, okay he wasn't trying to take anyone out personally. But that was the gist of it. He was trying again as he'd been trying before, to prove to everyone and especially his dead father that he wasn't weak, that he wasn't a bitch, even though he was realising more and more that he was just that. He wasn't tough enough to stand beside all the other ones in charge. Maybe he should just take a step back and do his time. Chucky and the others would protect him as long as he kept his feet still. Cyril would protect him.  
But he couldn't. He couldn't do that. It was just a nice thought, to stop fighting and just let everything be. But it wasn't going to happen. He didn't have it in him to give up. He couldn't spent the next at least twelve years in here like this. He needed... he needed to let everyone know that he had it in him. If it was only pretense, it didn't matter. But he needed them to see. He needed them to see that he wasn't just Nino's little daughter, but his son.

****

Then Schillinger came back from the hospital.

"Well, looky there, the husband to be!" he greeted Cyril with a sharkish grin. "Where have you left your better half?"  
"No idea what you're talking about."  
"Your little boyfriend. Boyfriend is the correct term, isn't it? Prag seems to be awefully out of fashion these days. Everyone's only marrying for love anylonger. A big bunch of fairies. But, hey, I ain't judging. Protecting the little wife like that. Quite valient."  
"I helped out a friend, that's all that was."  
"Must be some friend. I'm not sure about your relationship status. Maybe I'll share my knowledge with the rest of the prison population and see what they'll think. What do you think how Peter will take it? Think he'll off himself? Or maybe they'll just have to ship him back to Psych Ward. Say about Beecher what you will, but he was never such a bitch about everything. But well, I guess I just have better taste when it comes to my prags than you do. Even though, I have to admit, I'm still very much looking forward to tapping that ass. I guess you already did."  
"If you go near him, the next time your trip will be to the morgue." Cyril ground out. "And sure, tell whoever you like. Who's going to believe that? What's more likely that I shanked you over you getting into our business, or that I shanked you over some mysterious, supposed relationship between me and Peter Schibetta of all people, that somehow only you seem to know about?"  
"Well, well, since when you've gotten so smart? Your brother rubbing off on you? Well, I'll keep this knowledge close to heart. I'm sure it'll come in handy one day. Give my best to your sweetheart, tell him I miss him. When I jerked off in the hospital I imaged that moment when I finally ram my dick into that sexy little ass of his."  
Cyril was about to lunge himself at Schillinger, when two hacks walked around the corner. He aborted his attack. He couldn't be sent to the hole right now. If he was gone, who would protect Peter?

****

Maybe one good thing about just being that little bitch Peter anylonger, who the others protect because he's family, is that no one bothers to ask why he's hanging with that Mick so much lately. No one's interested in his friendship with Cyril.

****

Cyril went on his knees in front of Peter. The other let him, staring at him in disbelief.  
Cyril looked up at him, worry in his eyes. "Is this okay?"

****

That didn't happen. That kind of thing just didn't happen. Why would anyone debase himself like that? Cyril was the leader of the Irish for fuck's sake. Peter'd run out of explanations, out of boxes to stuff these informations.

****

He was thinking again about what he'd seen of Cyril by the shelves. It'd been a very sexual thing. Maybe even sensual. Maybe everything was, here in prison where they were denied everything like that, even though there was naked flesh in abundance. And every single one of them had been privy to a cellmate jerking off before. So why was this different? Cyril hadn't exactly put himself on display and even though the act had seemed wanton in a way. Was it only different now after what happened? Was that why his mind came back to it? Sexual gratification. Maybe one of the things hardest come by in here. By force. Through money. By reciprocation sometimes. And even more seldom because of love. Could a man be beautiful in such a way? Maybe Cyril's long hair? But still, all hard planes and angles. How could Peter be attractive to the other inmates? Because he was the closest to a woman? But that wasn't really true, was it? A general objective level of attractiveness? Beauty. Genderless. A fitting set of features that was easy on the eye. Cyril had that too. He was easy on the eye.

****

"You're friends with that fuck now?" Ryan blocked Cyril's path out the pod in the morning.  
Had only been a question of time. He knew his brother. Cyril paused to think of something to say that would pacify his brother. Nah. "Yeah, so?"  
"So? So, he wants to kill me."  
"He doesn't. Peter's got bigger problems."  
"What the fuck, Cyril?"  
Cyril spread out his arms, rolling his shoulder muscles in annoyance. "So I got a friend. Whatever."  
Ryan pointed a finger at him. "You better fucking watch him."  
"I am. Don't worry."

****

Sister Pete knew Peter wasn't telling her everything, had become more and more undisclosed in the months since he was out again. At first he had been a mess. Frightful and skittish everytime she saw him. The unlikely friendship with Cyril O'Reily seemed to be helping him. But he didn't tell her everything anylonger. For a long time she'd been privy to almost all his thoughts. Of all the prisoners he'd become the one she shared the closest connection with ever since things had drifted apart with her and Toby. She still cared about Toby, cared about him a lot more than she probably should, given the path he'd taken. And she knew he cared about her too, even though he didn't appreciate her meddling. But he was detached. And it felt all he did these days was lying to her, not even hiding it very well. It was probably her fault for asking questions she knew she'd only receive lies for. But she wanted him out of here. She wanted him save and happy and out of here. She wanted to see him resume his old life, not matter what had happened in here. No matter what he'd done.

And then there was Hank Schillinger. That was a patient she didn't look forward dealing with no matter that she knew it was her job and duty. She'd dealt with worse people, worse crimes. He wasn't even the first child murderer she'd dealt with. But knowing all of it. The build up to it. Knowing all the involved parties. It having been Tobias' child. And then seeing this boy, half a child himself still. The first time she'd seen him, he'd been covered in blood, pushed past her on a gurney. And when she looked at him now she wasn't sure she was the right choice of a therapist for him. But this was prison, it wasn't like they would send over another. So she looked at Schillinger's child, who seemed to be dying a little more every day, and tried to help him somehow.

****

McManus was once more plagued by the knowledge of missing knowledge. Things were happening even while it seemed nothing was happening. The Italians were restless, no real dissent yet, but something was going on. But mostly these days he worried about getting Tobias out on parole. Maybe finally a life saved in here. Even though Beecher had done that pretty much by himself.

****

Then the cells were getting mixed again. Another of McManus' brilliant ideas and he ended up in one with Cyril. And he knew it was over. He knew what followed next.

Peter spent the ticking by minutes after lights out sitting frozen on the top bunk. He didn't know for how long.  
"You okay, up there?" Cyril's voice called him out of his vapor. "You haven't moved in ten minutes."  
"I'm fine."  
"Okay, well, I'm going to sleep now. So see you in the morning."  
If Peter thought it was a joke, or a trick, or whatever else, each of which would have been very out of character for Cyril, he stood corrected when indeed all Cyril did was sleep. 

And the night after and the night after just the same. If they did make out, it happened at the exact places it had before, when they were alone in the kitchen. As soon as they were in their pod Cyril didn't touch him anylonger.

****

"You know," Cyril started all of a sudden, voice sounding up to the top bunk in the darkness. "I've been in prison too for a few years now. I am well aware how it works. So give me some credit here, I am aware of the implications of shared cells."

****

"No! Don't you dare hang up on me Tito!"  
Peter bit down the curse he wanted to utter, hanging up the phone silently with all the self-control he possessed.

"I wish Dino was still alive." Peter said when returning from the phone. "He was loyal. Hated fags like nothing else, but he was loyal. He'd have backed me up no matter what. He'd already have put a shank in Chucky. That's how he was. Loyal to a fault. Much like you."  
Cyril snorted.  
"Did you know him?"  
"Yeah. Met him a few times. Not that time he shot Ryan because then he'd have never made it to Oz, but..."  
"See, that's what I'm talking about." Peter smiled. "I wonder if Ryan killed him because he knew how important he was or if it really just was genuine dislike. Now don't look at me that way. Let's not pretend we don't all know who was behind Dino's murder."  
"Were you close?" Cyril asked.  
"Kinda. Despite him not being that much older than me, he was more like an uncle to me. He was always more involved, even though I had the higher position. My father always had the kind of faith in him he never had in me. I'm godfather to one of his kids. I don't really talk to his wife anylonger but I send them money. That's the funny thing, money isn't really a problem." Peter laughed hollowly. "My businesses outside are still running smoothly. It's just in here that everything's fucked up. Did you know that I'm married?"  
"Yeah."  
"You're not, right?"  
"Nah. Never saw the need to, honestly. Not because of my mom and my dad. Even though I knew I'd never make a woman that miserable. But because of Ryan and Shannon. I just didn't see the point. They fucked a lot and then they got hitched. You know, because he felt sorry for her because she couldn't have kids. The only selfless thing my brother's done in his life. But I don't think they ever loved each other. Didn't see the point to marry for something other than love. Why go through all that trouble? And I never really was in love. Sure, the regular three months over the moon stuff. But that shit never lasted."  
"Rosalie and I were 18 when we married. In my family it's normal to marry that young. Family's important for us. I think most just marry their high school sweatheart and don't think much about it. But that doesn't mean it's not real. My parents loved each other very much. I loved Rosalie too. Since I'm in here I haven't really been thinking about her. Everything outside feels surreal. Dino broke contact with his family when he went inside and he was right about that. No need for her to see me broken. Bad enough to have her live with the shame of everyone knowing."  
"I don't think she would care if she loves you."  
"Then maybe I'm just protecting myself. Since I went into psych ward I haven't seen her once. And frankly I don't want to either. They tried to make me see her. Once I was lucid again." A harsh laugh. "But I refused. It's been three years. We're practically strangers. Our worlds have nothing to do with each other anylonger. I mean I was pretty much a nutjob for two of those three years. How does that even happen?" Peter murmured. "I mean I was sitting up there drawing with fucking crayons, not knowing where I was half of the time. How the fuck does that shit happen?"  
"I don't know. People snap. They do all the fucking time. That's just how we are made. Over-complex, hyper-sensitive, highly fault prone wiring that no one really knows how it works. The shrinks certainly don't. I think Sister Pete has as much of a clue as Father Mukada does. And look at Adebisi. First that whole drug tailspin while Querns was around and now this conversion bullshit. What else than snapping is that? That shit can hit anyone. Especially in here. Look at how many people out there can't even get out of bed without their prozac, or their heroin. Or just plain booze. Doesn't matter if it's people like my dad or Toby."  
"You know, Adebisi..." Peter suddenly said, voice filled with puzzlement. "I saw him a while ago. He was cleaning the floors outside the sister's office. And I was... I was sitting on the ground. I hadn't even heard him approach. And suddenly he stands there. And he asks me– He asks me if I'm okay." Peter shook his head. "He asked me if I was okay."  
"People are strange. And people have layers. And you can never ever expect to understand them."  
"How come you are such a fucking sage, eh?"  
"I watch people. Just like my brother. You have to, to survive. And sometimes people are very simple to read and sometimes they do the absolute opposite of what you expect. And that taught me one thing. You can never know what another person is going to do. I for one thing, I'm very simple in my decisions and emotions. At least I think so. I can't be bothered to hide anything. Not a lot anyway. My brother might have figured out that we're friends, but not in his wildest dreams would he imagine that there's something more. Because we have certain pictures of other people. And the way we think someone's thinking isn't actually the way they think. Ryan's good at that. Figuring out how people are thinking. Ryan understands a lot of people very well and very few understand Ryan. I do. But only because I've grown up with him. Socialization. If you spend enough time with a person, the brains start to think alike. Shared synapses. Maybe people who've been married for twenty years can be that close. Or maybe it doesn't work once your own personality development is over, when you are already two different people. Maybe it's also shared DNA. But maybe it's only a proximity thing and we adjust to anyone if we spent long enough around them, because the brain is desperate for a connection. We are social creatures. We don't want to be alone. Even in here. Especially in here. I think that's the real punishment. Not shitty food or shitty television or no privacy. No. The loss of our family, our social connections. I guess Ryan and I are lucky in that. Because, let me tell you something, if I was in here without him, I'd be worse of than you. I'd lose myself. I might argue and fight with him, but the fact that he's here, it gives me peace and balance. We could be anywhere and it wouldn't matter as long as we are together."  
"That's nice." Peter said wistfully. "I mean I hate his guts, but that's nice, that kind of connection. Makes you jealous. He knows he can count on you no matter what. But can you count on him?"  
"Where it matters I can."  
"You don't have high expectations."  
"We're siblings. That's about a lot more than tit for tat. Maybe just being in his company is enough for me. We understand each other like no one else does. That's something irreplacable. We share a past that has fused us together irrevocably. And knowing that this bond cannot be destroyed that gives comfort."  
"But you worry."  
"I do?"  
"Yes. You started to worry since all of this happened. That maybe, like friendships that fade away, this isn't build to last either. That it's already starting to fade away, because one day Ryan will decide against you somewhere where it matters. Or because you will wake up one day and realise that it's not worth it."  
"How do you know that?"  
"Because I know you pretty well too by now."

"I've never before seen you talk that much."  
"I talk to Ryan."  
"Really, that much? Wouldn't have guessed that."  
"Well, we like to present a certain image. Besides I don't have to constantly broadcast what I'm thinking."

*****

"You know, if you want something you will have to come down here." Cyril said. "I'm not coming up to you."  
Cyril had already turned around and prepared to go to sleep, when Peter spoke.  
"If I do, what's going to happen?"  
"Whatever you want."  
"What about what you want?"  
Cyril gave a chuckle. "I want you. I already got that."  
Silence. Something like a snort. Then the bed above Cyril started creaking and slowly Peter came climbing down.  
Cyril could see Peter gingerly sitting down on his bunk in the semi-lit darkness of their pod. Then Peter reached out, a hand touching Cyril's face. Traced it down over Cyril's throat to his shoulder. When he leaned in to kiss him it was featherlight. It wasn't like they'd never done this. Only never here. It should have been less intense, here in semi-darkness, when they'd done this in broadly lit rooms before. It wasn't.  
Peter was still sitting both legs off the bed, just his upper body leaning in as he deepened the kiss. Something Cyril had realised pretty soon. Peter was a really good kisser. And Peter liked kissing. Still ready to bolt, though, with one hand propped on the bed and the other on Cyril's face. Only for his own sake, for there was nowhere to run and nothing Cyril would do. And they both knew it.  
Cyril didn't say things like you're beautiful, because it would set Peter scampering off.

Later, when Peter'd finally lied down, Cyril reached into his pants and got him off. And watched. Watched as Peter breathlessly fought for control with himself and lost. Watched every breath and moan as Peter threw his head back against the mattress. As his fingers dug into Cyril's shoulders.

****

Dark eyes stared at Cyril in the artificial night of their pod. Probing, assessing. Judging?  
"It's just," Peter started. "At one point you'll want to fuck me."  
Cyril looked at him, face propped up on one hand, then he reached out his free hand and brushed it through Peter's hair and Peter realised only how high-strung he'd been by how hard he flinched at that simple contact.  
"Sure I would like that," Cyril said. "If you wanted that. But since that's not likely to happen, would you want to fuck me? I mean, only if it's okay for you. We don't have to do any of that stuff if you don't want to."  
Peter looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Are you... Are you serious?"  
"Yes."

As he pushed into Cyril, he was hit with the distinct realisation that he was save with Cyril. And that maybe he could let himself enjoy these touches. Without waiting for the other shoe to drop. He leaned forward kissing Cyril's back and felt tears sting his eyes.

Cyril was hit by surprise when Peter's hand closed around his dick bringing him off.

****

Cyril didn't care if he had to be Peter's bitch for this to work. He didn't have complexes. Not in the way others in here had, not in the way Ryan did. Ryan's relationship with Miguel, he'd mostly been so weirded out by it in the beginning because it was so out of character for Ryan. But otherwise, he didn't much care. He didn't really care what image he projected towards others. The only image he'd ever had to project was that of being a menace, of being strong. And that was easy, because he was. He was strong and he was dangerous. And he carried that knowledge around with him for all others to see. Had been since he was a teenager. And that wouldn't fall away just because he got fucked by a man. He was comfortable in his skin. Comfortable in the knowledge that nothing about him was an act, that he didn't have to keep a mask from slipping. Confident in the knowledge that there was no man in this prison he couldn't take in a fight. If it wasn't for Peter he would have told the others just for the hell of it. No, getting fucked wasn't a problem if it meant being with Peter. It was gay sex one way or another. Otherwise you were just fooling yourself. And, hell, in for a penny. He got what he wanted. And it wasn't like Peter fucking him wasn't good.

****

Peter's not selfish. And he's not rough. But he's not hesitant either. Not after the first time. He'd figured out how to make this good for Cyril pretty fast. Because he listened and watched every sound, every move.

****

Peter climbed down from his bunk, slipped under the covers beside Cyril and curled up against him.  
"Is this something we can do?" Peter asked in a whisper into the semi-darkness.  
"Yeah."  
Cyril closed his arms around him, inhaling the scent of Peter's hair and went back to sleep.

****

"What's your problem, Petey?"  
"No problem, Chucky."  
"You think I'm doing it wrong?" The 'You think I need advice from someone who took it up the ass?' went unsaid.  
Peter put up is hands. "No. Sure, I was out of line."

Chucky knew what was up. What he didn't get was where that little crazy fuck took the balls from. Just popped back out of psych ward and thought he could be a game changer.

****

He wasn't dumb and he wasn't useless. He knew the business, had run far more complex operations outside than Chuck could ever dream of. He hadn't always been this insecure and skittish, this feeling of being close to an heart attack every minute of the day. He'd used to be confident, cocky. He'd known what he was doing then and he still did. He'd been overwhelmed when he got here, after three years of therapy he could admit that. He'd dealt with it wrong, hadn't known risks and consequences as he did now. But he did know better now. He's more careful now. His head was clear again. And most of all he'd had enough. He's determined and angry much more than scared now.

****

They were both still breathing heavy. Peter got off him and Cyril rolled back onto his back. Immediately Peter curled against him. Cyril wrapped an arm around him.  
"Why are you protecting me?" Peter whispered against Cyril's chest. "What the hell are you getting out of this?"  
Cyril gestured between the two of them. "You mean besides the obvious?" He laughed. "I told you, I really like you."  
"You are so strange." Peter propped himself up on one arm and pressed a kiss to Cyril's mouth.  
"By the way, I haven't done anything to protect you. Besides the first and you more than paid up for that."  
"I know what you did with Schillinger."  
"Who says I did it for you?" Cyril smirked.  
Peter laughed at that and Cyril really liked the sound of it. Then Peter asked, "Why did you help me that first time?"  
Cyril was silent for a while. "Dunno." he answered truthfully. "It just seemed the right thing to do."  
"Who on earth does the right thing in here?"  
Cyril shrugged, which was kinda weird while lying. "Beecher? Sometimes."  
Peter laughed again. "Yeah. You and Beecher, fighters for what's right and just."  
"Don't get used to it. Well, no, you can actually get used to it. But don't think I'll be running around helping any random strangers in the future." Cyril put a smacking kiss to Peter's lips. "I'll protect you alright."  
Peter snorted. "You're a dork."  
"What? I'm not!"  
"Yes, you are." Peter patted Cyril's cheek. "I appreciate that you know," he said in a softer voice.  
"Me being a dork?" Cyril asked, eyebrow raised.  
"Yeah. You being a dork."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everybody! ^.^


End file.
